Columbia  (Hnftergftp 
intijrCttpofi^rmgark 


LIBRARY 


WORTHY    WOMEN 


OF 


OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


EDITED    BY 

MRS.  O.  J.  WISTER 

AND 

MISS   AGNES   IRWIN. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT   &   CO. 

1S77. 


Copyrighted,  1877,  by  the  "  Women's  Centennial  Executive  Committee." 


PREFACE. 


The  volume  here  offered  to  the  public  is  so  far  from  fulfill- 
ing the  hopes  of  the  editors  that  they  think  it  due  to  those 
under  whose  auspices  it  is  published  to  give  an  idea  of  what 
it  was  meant  to  be,  and  of  the  causes  of  its  partial  failure. 
The  work  was  undertaken  by  the  desire  of  the  Women's  De- 
partment of  the  Centennial  Commission.  They  wished  to 
connect  their  own  labors  with  a  record  of  the  lives  of  Ameri- 
can women  in  earlier  times ;  to  show  what  they  had  been  and 
effected  under  the  difficulties,  domestic,  social,  and  political, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  all  new  countries  and  civilizations 
while  the  roads  are  being  made;  to  offer  to  their  young  coun- 
trywomen honorable  models  and  examples.  The  intention 
was  to  collect  a  series  of  brief  biographies,  one  for  each  of  the 
original  States,  so  as  to  illustrate  the  very  various  conditions 
and  demands  of  life  in  the  older  parts  of  the  country.  The 
choice  of  subjects  in  point  of  date  ranged  from  the  colonial 
epoch  to  the  last  generation.  It  was  not  thought  desirable 
to  include  any  one  still  living  or  but  lately  dead.  This  neces- 
sarily excluded  so  many  of  the  States  that  it  confirmed  the 
limitation  to  the  first,  contemporaneous,  thirteen.  In  order 
that  the  work  might  not  be  too  voluminous,  each  State  was 
restricted  to  one  memoir.  It  was  not  requisite  that  the  sub- 
ject should  have  been  a  woman  connected  with  Revolutionary 
times  or  historical  events,  although  especial  interest  attaches 
to  those  who  were.  The  conspicuous  women  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  indeed  of  America  down  almost  to  the  present  day, 
had  found  biographers  in  Mrs.  S.  J.  Hale  and  Mrs.  E.  F.  Ellett. 


1f)()R()H 


PREFA  CE. 


Their  notices  are  too  short  and  sketchy  to  give  a  clear  idea 
of  character  and  individuality;  but  they  had  supplied  a  com- 
plete register  of  names  and  events.     All  that  we  required, 
therefore,  was  the  lives  of  women  of  weight  and  mark,  whose 
influence  was  felt  for  good  in  their  own  circle,  whether  a  wide 
or  a  narrow  one ;  who  had  thought  and  acted  for  themselves, 
either  in  decisive  public  issues  or  in  the  even  tenor  of  private 
life.     It  was  also  earnestly  wished  that  the  memoir  for  each 
State  should  be  written  by  a  woman  from  that  State,  that  the 
welded  chain  of  the  Pine-Tree  flag  might  once  more  be  held 
by  clasping  hands,  not  the  mailed  grasp  of  men,  but  the  not 
less  firm  and  sustaining  hold  of  women  ;  that  as  this  Centen- 
nial Anniversary  has  reknit  the  bond  of  brotherhood  through- 
out the  country,  that  of  sisterhood  should  be  drawn  as  close. 
Such  was  the  scheme.     Every  pains  was  taken  to  find  out 
proper  heroines  for  the  memoirs,  and  proper  biographers,  and 
also  to  avoid  unsuitable  ones.     The  editors  were  engaged  for 
upwards  of  six  months  in  corresponding  with  distinguished 
and  patriotic  people  all  over  the  country  to  try  and  get  the 
information  necessary  to  proceed  upon.     Then  followed  letters 
to  and  from  ladies  in  the  thirteen  States,  which,  if  they  could 
be  published,  would  form  a  most  interesting  and  entertain- 
ing collection.     Still,  this  did  not  succeed  in  bringing  about 
the  object   completely.     Mrs.  Gillespie,  the  President  of  the 
Women's  Department  of  the  Centennial  Commission,  in  an 
appeal  which  she  sent  forth  last  autumn,  and  which  was  cir- 
culated throughout  the  country,  begged  for  biographies  of 
eminent  and  memorable  women,  but  without  calling  out  a  single 
satisfactory  reply.     There  were  great  difficulties  at  every  step. 
In  the  first  place,  although  the  editors  endeavored  to  be  ex- 
plicit as  to  what  they  wanted,  the  answers  they  received  almost 
invariably  referred  only  to  women  of  Revolutionary  times,  as 
if  none  other  were  eligible.     It  then  appeared  that,  although 
the   older   States  are  rife   with   traditions  and  anecdotes   of 
women  who  did  honor  to  their  place  and  day,  material  for 
biographical  notices  of  them,  correspondence,  journals,  written 
record  of  any  sort,  personal  recollections,  are  wanting.     One 


PREFA  CE.  5 

of  the  most  noble  and  impressive  female  figures  in  our  annals 
is  Faith  Robinson,  wife  of  the  first  and  mother  of  the  second 
Governor  Trumbull  of  Connecticut;  but,  beyond  two  or  three 
striking  stories,  and  the  veneration  for  her  name  and  worth 
which  her  children  have  transmitted  to  their  descendants,  no- 
thing remains  of  her.  Again,  some  of  our  most  prominent  and 
admirable  women  did  not  belong  either  by  birth  or  family  to 
the  States  with  which  their  names  are  connected.  Mrs.  John 
Jay,  of  the  Revolution,  who  held  so  high  a  position  in  New 
York,  was  a  native  of  New  Jersey;  Mrs.  Judson,  of  our  own 
times,  the  missionary  and  martyr,  if  ever  self-devotion  de- 
served the  crown  and  palm-branch,  hailed  from  New  Hamp- 
shire, but  was  born  in  Massachusetts.  In  other  eminent  in- 
stances, such  as  that  of  Mrs.  John  Adams,  the  life  and  corre- 
spondence are  already  so  well  known  that  to  republish  them 
in  any  form  would  be  a  twice-told  tale.  In  most  cases,  how- 
ever, the  ladies  were  not  scribes:  often  in  following  up  their 
traces  it  was  found  that  every  scrap  of  writing  had  perished, 
either  through  the  jealousy  of  affection,  or  indifference,  or 
accident.  In  the  South,  where  the  circumstances  of  life  are 
more  picturesque  than  along  the  rest  of  the  Atlantic  coast, — 
where  romantic  situations  and  heroic  incidents  are  more  fre- 
quent in  feminine  existence,  owing  to  the  solitude  and  remote- 
ness of  plantations  accessible  only  by  wood-roads  or  lonely 
rivers, — where,  too,  the  peculiar  responsibilities  of  slavery  fell 
heavily  upon  the  women  of  the  master's  family,  developing  the 
administrative  ability  and  qualities  of  housekeeper  and  nurse 
in  a  signal  degree,— the  practice  of  keeping  private  papers 
was  general ;  but  fire  has  always  been  the  enemy  of  those 
frame  houses,  with  their  open  chimney-places,  pine  torches, 
and  careless  servitors,  and  the  war  swept  off  most  of  their 
remaining  archives,  public  and  private.  Besides,  it  has  been 
with  our  recollections  as  with  our  relics:  nations,  like  men, 
when  they  are  young,  forget. that  they  will  ever  grow  old, 
and  learn  to  prize  mementos  of  their  earlier  time.  There  has 
been  from  the  first  a  lamentable  destruction  of  what  were 
really  national  heirlooms,  to  which  the  approach  of  the  Cen- 


6  PREFA  CE. 

tenary  first  called  general  attention  ;  and  so  it  has  been  with 
reminiscences.     Our  people  had  not  begun  to  remember. 

These  are  the  principal  obstacles  we  have  had  to  en- 
counter. On  the  other  hand,  there  has  been  everywhere  the 
warmest  interest  in  the  undertaking, — ready  sympathy  from 
those  to  whom  we  have  applied,  and  help  where  it  was  to 
give.  Unfortunately  for  some  of  the  memoirs,  those  best 
qualified  to  prepare  them  were  too  much  taken  up  with  other 
duties  to  do  so.  But  the  ladies  to  whom  application  was  made 
exerted  themselves  to  find  able  substitutes.  Many  of  those 
who  undertook  the  task  have  been  hampered  by  ill  health  or 
the  pressure  of  other  claims,  but  their  researches  and  inquiries 
have  been  as  thorough  as  if  they  had  been  writing  history. 
We  are  particularly  indebted  to  the  families  of  the  women 
chosen  as  representatives,  for  their  willingness  to  allow  the 
use  of  the  material  they  possess  and  for  their  active  assistance 
in  collecting  more.  We  owe  hearty  thanks  for  advice  or  aid 
to  Colonel  T.  W.  Higginson,  Mrs.  Oliver  Hubbard,  of  New 
York,  Mrs.  M.  P.  Cutts,  of  Brattleboro',  Lloyd  P.  Smith,  Esq., 
of  Philadelphia,  Mrs.  Catherine  Pennington,  of  New  Jersey. 
In  regard  to  the  memoir  for  Pennsylvania  the  writer  must 
express  her  gratitude  to  the  Logan  family  and  connections 
generally,  most  especially  to  Mrs.  John  Dickinson  Logan, 
who  copied  from  the  diary  of  her  husband's  grandmother,  to 
which  only  near  relations  have  access,  all  the  extracts  given 
from  it,  and  pages  more  not  quoted,  from  which  the  picture 
of  the  heroine's  character  and  life  has  been  completed. 

Nevertheless,  with  all  this  effort  and  this  encouragement, 
we  have  only  six  sketches  to  offer  as  the  result.  Nor  have 
we  in  all  of  these  the  living  personal  representation  we  hoped 
would  be  presented  in  every  case :  the  scantiness  of  material 
made  that  impossible.  Should  the  volume,  such  as  it  is,  find 
general  favor,  it  may  be  the  means  of  obtaining  biographies 
from  the  remaining  States.  If  suitable  ones  be  sent,  as  we 
trust  they  may,  a  second  volume  will  be  published. 

Philadelphia,  October,  1876. 


CONTENTS. 


STATE.  SUBJECT.  AUTHOR.  PAGE 

Virginia.  .  .  .  Mrs.  T.  M.  Randolph.  .  .  Miss  S.  N.  Randolph  .  9 
New  York.  .  .  Mrs.  Philip  Schuyler.  .  .  Miss  S.  F.  Cooper  ,  .  71 
Massachusetts.  .  Mrs.  Samuel  Ripley.  .  .  Miss  Elizabeth  Hoar.  113 
New  Hampshire.  Women  of  New  Hampshire.  Mrs.  Francis  W.  Fiske.  229 
South  Carolina.  J'  us.  Rebecca  Motte.  .  .  A  Lady  of  S.  Carolina  259 
Pennsylvania.    .  Di-borah  Logan Mrs.  Owen  J.  Wister  .  279 


WORTHY  WOMEN 


OUR   FIRST   CENTURY. 


MRS.  THOMAS    MANN    RANDOLPH. 

Amid  scenery  of  almost  unsurpassed  beauty  in  the  central 
part  of  Virginia,  rises  the  modest  height  of  Monticello.  There 
are  few  points  in  the  surrounding  country  from  which  its 
graceful  profile  cannot  be  seen,  and  the  "  little  mountain"  is 
pointed  out  as  the  object  of  greatest  interest  in  every  land- 
scape in  which  it  appears  in  that  lovely  region.  To  its  summit 
many  a  tourist  wends  his  way,  and,  in  spite  of  the  ruin, 
the  desecration,  which  mark  its  present  condition,  still  finds 
traces  there  of  the  statesman,  the  philosopher,  and  the  man 
of  taste. 

But  it  is  not  as  the  home  of  the  great  man  in  either  of  these 
characters  that  our  attention  shall  be  directed  to  this  classic 
spot  in  these  pages,  but  rather  as  the  birthplace  and  loved 
and  lost  home  of  his  daughter, — she  who  as  a  child  was  his 
only  comforter  in  the  great  sorrow  of  his  life,  who  in  maturer 
years  was  his  intimate  friend  and  companion,  and  whose  pres- 
ence lent  to  his  home  its  greatest  charm,  as  her  love  and  her 
sympathy  were  his  greatest  solace  in  the  troubles  which  so 
clouded  the  evening  of  his  eventful  life. 

Martha  Jefferson  Randolph,  daughter  of  Thomas  and 
Martha  Jefferson,  was  born  at  Monticello,  September  27,  1772. 
Her  mother,  Martha  Wayles,  was  first  married  to  Bathurst 

9 


IO        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Skelton,  who  dying  two  years  after  this  marriage,  she  married, 
four  years  later,  January  I,  1772,  Thomas  Jefferson.  His  biog- 
raphers have  given  an  account  of  the  gay  wedding-journey 
of  over  a  hundred  miles,  from  the  bride's  home  below  Rich- 
mond, to  Monticello,  which  began  in  a  carriage  and  under 
propitious  skies,  but  the  last  eight  miles  of  which  was  per- 
formed on  horseback  and  through  a  deep  snow  after  sunset. 

Mrs.  Jefferson  is  said  to  have  been  a  singularly  beautiful 
woman,  and  a  person  of  great  intelligence  and  strength  of 
character ;  and  certainly,  if  the  attractions  of  a  woman  can  be 
measured  by  the  love  borne  her  by  her  husband,  hers  must 
have  been  great  indeed,  for  never  was  a  wife  loved  with  more 
passionate  devotion  than  she  was  by  Jefferson.  There  was 
no  sacrifice  too  great  for  him  to  make  for  her ;  and  when  her 
health  first  gave  signs  of  giving  way,  an  appointment  abroad, 
or,  indeed,  any  office  which  could  take  him  from  her  side, 
was  positively  refused.  Her  health  was  extremely  delicate 
during  several  years  ;  and  nearly  a  year  before  her  death,  Jef- 
ferson speaks  in  one  of  his  letters  of  his  "  perpetual  solicitude" 
about  her. 

His  anxiety  was  but  too  well  founded,  and  after  the  birth 
of  her  sixth  child,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1782,  she  sank 
so  rapidly  that  before  the  summer  was  gone  her  friends  real- 
ized that  she  could  be  spared  to  them  but  a  few  weeks  longer. 
The  devotion,  the  clinging  tenderness  with  which  her  husband 
nursed  her  are  well  known.  The  little  Martha  was  too  young 
to  realize  the  calamity  which  was  overhanging  her.  Mrs. 
Jefferson  had  been  too  ill  to  see  the  child  for  some  time,  when 
one  day  the  latter  was  called  in  to  see  her  mother  dressed 
and  sitting  up  in  a  chair,  as  something  that  would  please  her. 
Then  for  the  first  time  the  truth  flashed  on  her  as  she  saw 
death  stamped  on  the  invalid's  pale  face ;  and  so  overcome 
was  she  by  the  shock  that  she  was  obliged  to  leave  the  room. 

It  was  during  those  last  days  of  her  life,  when  the  pang  of 
separation  was  so  keenly  felt  by  both  husband  and  wife,  that 
she  spoke  with  emotion  to  her  sisters  of  his  devotion  to  her, 
of  the  depth  of  her  love  for  him,  and  of  the  period  of  their 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  n 

married  life  as  one  of  unalloyed  happiness,  which  no  cloud 
between  them  had  ever  risen  to  dim.  The  closing  scene  came 
at  last,  and  on  the  6th  of  September,  as  the  gentle  invalid 
breathed  her  last,  her  husband  was  borne  fainting  from  the 
bedside.  The  part  that  the  little  Martha  took  in  these  painful 
scenes  she  years  afterwards  described  : 

"  The  scene  that  followed  I  did  not  witness,  but  the  vio- 
lence of  his  emotion,  when,  almost  by  stealth,  I  entered  his 
room  by  night,  to  this  day  I  dare  not  describe  to  myself.  He 
kept  his  room  for  three  weeks,  and  I  was  never  a  moment 
from  his  side.  He  walked  incessantly  almost  night  and  day, 
only  lying  down  occasionally,  when  nature  was  completely  ex- 
hausted, on  a  pallet  that  had  been  brought  in  during  his  long 
fainting-fit.  My  aunts  remained  constantly  with  him  for  some 
weeks,  I  do  not  remember  how  many.  When  at  last  he  left 
his  room,  he  rode  out,  and  from  that  time  he  was  incessantly 
on  horseback,  rambling  about  the  mountain  in  the  least  fre- 
quented roads,  and  just  as  often  through  the  woods.  In  those 
melancholy  rambles  I  was  his  constant  companion;  a  solitary 
witness  to  many  a  burst  of  grief,  the  remembrance  of  which 
has  consecrated  particular  scenes  of  that  lost  home  beyond 
the  power  of  time  to  obliterate." 

Not  long  after  her  mother's  death,  Martha  was  carried,  with 
her  two  little  sisters,  Mary  and  Lucy  Elizabeth,  to  the  resi- 
dence of  a  friend  of  their  father's,  in  Chesterfield  County,  there, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  to  be  inoculated  for 
the  smallpox.  Their  father  accompanied  them,  and  nursed 
them  through  the  whole  period  of  their  inoculation,  and  while 
engaged  in  this  received  notice  of  his  appointment  as  Pleni- 
potentiary to  Europe.  This  appointment  he  did  not  now  hesi- 
tate to  accept ;  but,  the  time  of  his  departure  being  uncertain, 
he  left  his  two  younger  children  with  their  aunt,  Mrs.  Eppes, 
and  took  Martha  to  Philadelphia  with  him.  She  was  only  ten 
years  old  at  the  time  of  her  mother's  death,  and  was  from 
that  time  her  father's  constant  companion.  In  afterlife  she 
often  spoke  of  the  journeys  she  had  made  with  him,  and 
of  the  difficulties  and  the  tedium  of  traveling  in  those  days, 


12        WORTHY   WOMEN  OF  OUR   FIRST  CENTURY. 

particularly  to  a  little  girl,  the  sole  companion  of  a  gentle- 
man and  thrown  often  among  entire  strangers.  But  the  first 
wish  of  her  heart  was  to  be  with  him  always  and  under  all 
circumstances,  and  there  were  few  trials  and  privations  which 
she  would  not  have  borne  rather  than  give  up  that  pleasure 
and  happiness. 

Before  her  mother's  death,  her  father  had  paid  very  partic- 
ular attention  to  her  education,  but  whatever  of  discipline  or 
restraint  she  recollected  as  having  been  imposed  on  her  at  that 
early  age  came  from  her  mother.  From  her  father  she  re- 
membered to  have  received  only  words  of  love  and  encour- 
agement, some  of  which  had  sunk  deeply  in  her  heart  and 
were  cherished  with  gratitude  long  after  they  had  been  spoken. 
In  Philadelphia  her  father  placed  her  under  the  care  of  Mrs. 
Hopkinson,  at  whose  house  she  remained  until  they  sailed  for 
Europe.  Mr.  Jefferson,  in  the  mean  while,  took  his  seat  in 
Congress,  which  was  then  in  session  in  Annapolis;  and  his 
letters  to  his  daughter,  and  the  particular  directions  which 
they  contain  as  to  her  course  of  study  and  the  manner  in 
which  she  should  spend  her  time,  prove  how  constantly  she 
was  in  his  thoughts  and  with  what  care  he  watched  over  her 
education. 

They  at  last  sailed  for  Europe  early  in  the  summer  of  the 
year  1784,  and  reached  their  destination  after  a  short  voyage. 
Mr.  Jefferson  at  once  took  rooms  in  the  Hotel  d'Orleans  until 
he  could  find  a  suitable  house.  He  kept  his  daughter  with 
him  for  some  time,  and  then  placed  her  at  school  in  the  con- 
vent of  the  Abbaye  Royale  de  Panthemont.  The  advantages 
for  intellectual,  moral,  and  social  training  which  this  place 
offered  were  very  great.  The  nuns  who  watched  with  the 
tenderest  care  over  the  girls  placed  under  their  charge  be- 
longed to  the  best  families  in  Europe,  and  were  born  and  bred 
.  ladies.  The  pupils  were  from  the  higher  classes  of  society, 
being  the  daughters  of  the  gentlemen  and  diplomatic  men  of 
various  countries,  and  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  France. 
They  had  the  best  instruction,  the  best  masters  for  accomplish- 
ments ;  and  no  pains,  no  expense  were  spared  to  make  the 


MRS.   THOMAS  MA XX  RAXDOLPH.  13 

system  of  education  as  complete  as  possible.  Nor  were  the 
recreations  of  the  pupils  neglected,  and  they  were  a  bright, 
joyous  set. 

No  pupil  was  admitted  at  Panthemont  without  the  recom- 
mendation of  a  lady  of  rank;  and,  Mr.  Jefferson  being  without 
acquaintances  on  his  first  arrival  in  Paris,  his  devoted  friend 
the  Marquis  de  La  Fayette  obtained  from  a  lady  friend  of  his 
the  necessary  recommendation  for  the  admission  of  the  little 
American.  Naturally  very  diffident,  the  fiery  ordeal  which 
her  entrance  into  such  an  establishment  was  can  be  well  appre- 
ciated. A  motherless  little  girl,  transported  from  the  primitive 
simplicity  of  the  retired  life  of  the  most  retired  part  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  placed  at  school  in  the  gayest  capital  in  the  world, 
among  the  daughters  of  the  noblest  houses  in  Europe,  not  un- 
derstanding one  word  of  the  language  spoken  around  her,  how 
she  must  have  suffered,  and  how  many  times  she  must  have 
wished  herself  out  of  that  strange  throng  and  back  at  her 
dear,  beautiful  Monticello,  under  the  gentle  instruction  of  her 
father,  who  by  precept  and  example  instilled  into  her  soul  a 
love  of  all  that  was  good  and  noble !  Years  afterwards  she  used 
to  describe  to  her  children  the  depths  of  her  despair  at  parting 
with  him.  During  the  first  week  the  kind  Lady  Superior 
allowed  him  to  see  her  a  little  while  every  evening ;  during 
those  first  few  days  she  wept  incessantly,  the  looking  forward 
to  his  coming  being  the  one  bright  ray  of  light  in  her  cheer- 
less existence. 

But,  under  the  gentle  influences  by  which  she  was  sur- 
rounded, such  a  state  of  things  could  not  last  long.  She  soon 
learned  to  speak  French.  The  pupils  in  the  school  were  very 
kind  to  the  little  Virginian,  and,  one  or  two  of  them  taking 
her  under  their  wing  and  befriending  her  in  her  disconsolate 
condition,  she  formed  friendships  with  them  which  lasted 
through  life.  After  she  had  become  accustomed  to  her  new 
life  and  grown  happy  in  the  convent,  she  was  allowed  to  visit 
her  father  in  his  own  house  once  a  month.  Her  school-mates 
called  her  "  Jeff"  or  "  Jeffie,"  and  from  her  correspondence 
with  them  I  find  that  "  chere  Jeff"  was  their  general  mode 


14 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


of  address  in   letters  written   to  her  even  after  she  had   left 
school. 

In  a  quaint  letter  to  Mrs.  Trist,  a  lady  in  Philadelphia,  who 
was  a  friend  of  her  father's  and  who  had  been  very  kind  to  her, 
she  gives  some  glimpses  of  her  life  in  the  convent.  The  letter 
was  written  after  she  had  been  in  Paris  more  than  a  year,  though 
she  describes  her  first  arrival  with  her  father  in  France.  The 
naivete  and  artlessness  betrayed  in  the  following  extracts  from 
this  letter  will  amuse  the  reader : 

"  I  am  very  happy  in  the  convent,  and  with  reason,  for  there 
wants  nothing  but  the  presence  of  my  friends  of  America  to 
render  my  situation  worthy  to  be  envied  by  the  happiest;  I  do 
not  say  kings,  for,  far  from  it,  they  are  often  more  unfortunate 
than  the  lowest  of  their  subjects.  I  have  seen  the  king  and 
the  queen,  but  at  too  great  a  distance  to  judge  if  they  are  like 
their  pictures  in  Philadelphia.  We  had  a  lovely  passage  in  a 
beautiful  new  ship,  that  had  made  one  passage  before.  There 
were  only  six  passengers,  all  of  whom  papa  knew,  and  a  fine 
sunshine  all  the  way,  with  a  sea  which  was  as  calm  as  a  river. 
.  .  .  We  landed  in  England,  where  we  made  a  very  short 
stay.  The  day  we  left  it  we  got  off  at  six  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, and  arrived  in  France  at  eleven  the  next  morning.  I 
cannot  say  that  this  voyage  was  as  agreeable  as  the  first, 
though  it  was  much  shorter.  It  rained  violently,  and  the  sea 
was  exceedingly  rough  all  the  time,  and  I  was  almost  as  sick 
as  the  first  time,  when  I  was  sick  two  days.  The  cabane  was 
not  more  than  three  feet  wide  and  about  four  long.  There 
was  no  other  furniture  than  an  old  bench,  which  was  fast  to 
the  wall.  The  door  by  which  we  came  in  at  was  so  little  that 
one  was  obliged  to  enter  on  all-fours.  There  were  two  little 
doors  on  the  side  of  the  cabane,  the  way  to  our  beds,  which 
were  composed  of  two  boxes  and  a  couple  of  blankets,  without 
either  bed  or  mattress,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  sleep  in  my 
clothes.  There  being  no  window  in  the  cabane,  we  were 
obliged  to  stay  in  the  dark,  for  fear  of  the  rain  coming  in  if 
we  opened  the  door.  I  fear  we  should  have  fared  as  badly  at 
our  arrival,  for  papa  spoke  very  little  French,  and  I  not  a  word, 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  15 

if  an  Irish  gentleman,  an  entire  stranger  to  us,  who  seeing  our 
embarrassment,  had  not  been  so  good  as  to  conduct  us  to  a 
house,  and  was  of  great  service  to  us.  It  is  amazing  to  see 
how  they  cheat  strangers ;  it  cost  papa  as  much  to  have  the 
baggage  brought  from  the  shore  to  the  house,  which  was  about 
half  a  square,  as  the  bringing  it  from  Philadelphia  to  Boston. 
From  there  we  should  have  had  a  very  delightful  voyage  to 
Paris,  for  Havre  de  Grace  is  built  at  the  mouth  of  the  Seine, 
and  we  follow  the  river  all  the  way  through  the  most  beau- 
tiful country  I  ever  saw  in  my  life, — it  is  a  perfect  garden, — 
if  the  singularity  of  our  carriage  (a  phaeton)  had  not  attracted 
the  attention  of  all  we  met ;  and  whenever  we  stopped  we 
were  surrounded  by  the  beggars.  One  day  I  counted  no  less 
than  nine  where  we  stopped  to  change  horses.  ...  I  wish 
you  could  have  been  with  us  when  we  arrived,  I  am  sure  you 
would  have  laughed,  for  we  were  obliged  to  send  immediately 
for  the  stay-maker,  the  mantuamaker,  the  milliner,  and  even 
a  shoemaker,  before  I  could  go  out.  I  have  never  had  the 
friseur  but  once ;  but  I  soon  got  rid  of  him,  and  turned  down 
my  hair  in  spite  of  all  they  could  say;  and  I  defer  it  now  as 
much  as  possible,  for  I  think  it  always  too  soon  to  suffer.  I 
have  seen  two  nuns  take  the  veil.  I'll  tell  you  about  that 
when  I  come  to  see  you.  I  was  placed  in  a  convent  at  my 
arrival,  and  I  leave  you  to  judge  of  my  situation.  I  did  not 
speak  a  word  of  French,  and  not  one  here  knew  English  but 
a  little  girl  of  two  years  old,  that  could  hardly  speak  French. 
There  are  about  fifty  or  sixty  pensioners  in  the  house,  so  that 
speaking  as  much  as  I  could  with  them  I  learnt  the  language 
very  soon.  At  present  I  am  charmed  with  my  situation.  .  .  . 
There  come  in  some  new  pensioners  every  day.  The  classe  is 
four  rooms,  exceedingly  large,  for  the  pensioners  to  sleep  in; 
and  there  is  a  fifth  and  sixth,  one  for  them  to  stay  in  the  da}-,  and 
the  other  in  which  they  take  their  lessons  in.  We  wear  the  uni- 
form, which  is  crimson,  made  like  a  frock,  laced  behind,  with 
the  tail,  like  a  robe  de  cour,  hooked  on,  muslin  cuffs  and  tuckers. 
The  masters  are  all  very  good,  except  that  for  the  drawing." 
The  French  words  and  idioms  in  this  letter  show  that  the 


1 6        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

little  lady  had  learned  that  language  sufficiently  well  to  be 
in  danger  of  forgetting  how  to  express  herself  elegantly  in 
her  own.  We  catch  another  glimpse  of  her  at  this  period  in 
the  following  extract  from  the  "Journal  and  Correspondence 
of  Miss  Adams,  Daughter  of  John  Adams,"  who  was  at  that 
time  in  Paris  : 

"  Thursday,  October  14,  17S4. — Mr.  Jefferson  sent  us  cards 
yesterday  to  admit  us  to  see  the  ceremony  of  taking  the  veil 
in  the  convent  where  his  daughter  is  to  receive  her  educa- 
tion. .  .  .  The  relations  of  the  two  victims  appeared  less 
affected  than  any  one  present.  Thus  these  two  girls  are 
destined  to  pass  their  lives  within  this  convent.  They  are  not 
so  strict  as  formerly.  Miss  Jefferson  told  me  they  were  very 
cheerful  and  agreeable.  They  seemed  to  take  great  pleasure 
in  contributing  to  the  happiness  of  the  pensioners.  There 
were  three  princesses,  who  are  here  for  their  education,  and 
were  distinguished  from  the  others  by  a  blue  ribbon  over  the 
shoulder.  This  is  considered  the  best  and  most  genteel  con- 
vent in  Paris.  Most  of  the  English  who  send  their  children 
here  for  their  education  put  them  into  this  convent.  There 
are  a  number  now  here." 

"  %  wary  27. — A  small  company  to  dine  to-day.  Miss 
Jefferson  we  expected,  but  the  news  of  the  death  of  one  of 
Mr.  J.'s  children  in  America,  brought  by  the  Marquis  de  La 
Fayette,  prevented.  Mr.  J.  is  a  man  of  great  sensibility-  and 
parental  affection.  His  wife  died  when  this  child  was  born, 
and  he  was  almost  in  a  confirmed  state  of  melancholy,  con- 
fined himself  from  the  world,  and  even  from  his  friends,  for  a 
long  time ;  and  this  news  has  greatly  affected  him  and  his 
daughter.  She  is  a  sweet  girl ;  delicacy  and  sensibility  are 
read  in  every  feature,  and  her  manners  are  in  unison  withiell 
that  is  amiable  and  lovely.     She  is  very  young." 

"  F.  ~ . — To-day  we  dined  with  Mr.  Jefferson.      He 

invited  us  to  come  and  see  all  Paris,  which  was  to  be  seen  in 
the  streets  to-day,  and  many  masks,  it  being  the  last  day  but 
one  of  the  Carnival.  Miss  Jefferson  dined  with  us ;  no  other 
company.    .    .    ." 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  \j 

"May  9. — When  we  had  finished  our  business  we  went  to 
Mr.  Jefferson's,  where  I  saw  Miss  J.,  a  most  amiable  girl." 

The  death  of  the  child  alluded  to  in  this  extract  was  indeed 
an  affliction  keenly  felt  by  Mr.  Jefferson  and  his  daughter. 
Out  of  six  children  he  now  had  only  two  left,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  have  his  youngest,  Mary, — or  Polly,  as  she  was  some- 
times called, — sent  over  to  join  him  in  Paris  as  soon  as  possible. 
But  it  was  nearly  two  years  before  an  opportunity  for  doing 
this  occurred  ;  and  when  she  did  join  her  father  and  sister  they 
had  become  almost  perfect  strangers  to  her,  and,  a  very  beau- 
tiful but  very  diffident  child,  she  was  at  first,  in  the  strange 
land  to  which  she  had  been  brought,  as  timid  as  a  frightened 
hare  in  her  intercourse  with  them.  She  was  placed  at  school 
in  the  convent  with  her  sister,  with  whose  school-mates  and 
friends  she  was  a  great  pet  and  darling,  her  sweet  and  caress- 
ing ways  being  as  charming  to  them  as  they  had  been  to 
Mrs.  Adams,  who  has  left  such  a  pretty  picture  of  her  in  her 
letters. 

While  at  Panthemont,  Martha  Jefferson  was  very  ill  of  a 
fever,  and  the  nuns,  kind-hearted  as  they  were,  did  not  wish  to 
have  their  sacred  retreat  desecrated  by  the  death  of  a  heretic 
within  its  walls.  They  therefore  requested  that  she  might  be 
taken  away  ;  and  it  was  only  at  the  earnest  entreaties  of  her 
father,  who  begged  that  her  chance  of  recovery  might  not  be 
lessened  by  moving  her,  that  they  at  last  consented  she  should 
stay,  at  least  until  she  was  past  all  hope,  if  death  should  prove 
to  be  inevitable.  Since  that  day,  one  of  her  daughters  who 
visited  Paris  found  the  church  of  the  Abbaye  de  Panthemont 
open,  and  a  Protestant  clergyman  preaching  in  it.  Such  had 
been  the  changes  since  the  school-days  of  her  mother. 

Though  not  handsome,  Martha  was  at  this  time  a  tall  and 
aristocratic-looking  girl.  The  lady  at  whose  recommenda- 
tion she  had  been  admitted  into  the  convent,  being  one  day  on 
a  visit  to  it,  and  watching  the  young  girls  playing  in  the  gar- 
den, pointed  out  one  of  them  to  the  nun  who  was  with  her, 
and  asked  who  she  was.  The  nun  answered,  with  a  little  sur- 
prise, "  Comment,  madame !  e'est  votre  protegee  Mademoi- 


18      worthy  women  of  our  first  century. 

selle  Jefferson."      "  Ah !  mais  vraiment  elle  a  l'air  tres-dis- 
tingue,"  replied  the  lady. 

The  English  friends  at  the  convent  with  whom  she  seems 
to  have  been  most  intimate  were  Julia  Annesley  and  Bettie 
Hawkins.  The  first  became,  by  some  family  inheritance,  soon 
after  she  left  school,  Lady  Julia, — "  to  her  great  satisfaction," 
one  of  her  school-mates  writes  of  her  to  "  dear  Jeff."  The 
second,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  girl  full  of  life  and  intelli- 
gence, with  a  very  warm  heart,  married  a  gentleman  who,  as 
she  expresses  it  in  one  of  her  letters,  "  would  be  Lord  J. 
should  the  present  heir  kick  the  bucket."  In  another  letter 
to  her  friend  Martha  she  suddenly  breaks  off  from  the  subject 
on  which  she  is  writing,  and  says, — 

"  My  dear  girl,  I  am  to  be  married  on  Wednesday,  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  I  have  not  been  myself  for  this  week  past, 
and  am  now  really  nn  pett  dcrangee  dans  la  fete.  The  idea 
that  I  quit  all  my  friends,  my  dearest  and  nearest  relations, 
to  follow  a  man  who  may  soon  forget  the  many  promises 
he  has  made  me,  and  in  the  end  prove  totally  different  from 
what  we  all  imagine  him  to  be,  makes  my  feelings  too  acute 
to  bear  description.  If — but  I  will  not  anticipate  imaginary 
evils,  or  dwell  on  this  subject,  on  which  I  can  never  converse 
half  an  instant  without  showing  myself  (mamma  says)  an 
idiot.  Direct  all  your  letters  to  Watersperry,  where  we  go 
immediately  after  the  ceremony.  Adieu  ;  pity  your  distressed 
friend.  Indeed  I  am  very  unhappy,  though  I  have  every 
reason  to  be  the  contrary.  A  description  of  my  journey,  etc., 
you  shall  have  soon ;  and  pray,  Jeff,  write  to  me." 

The  evils  proved,  indeed,  to  have  been  imaginary,  for  the 
trembling  and  doubting  bride  became  the  happy  wife,  whose 
letters,  after  years  of  married  life,  continue  to  breathe  content- 
ment and  delight. 

A  charming  French  girl,  Mademoiselle  de  Botidoux,  and 
Mademoiselle  Brunette  de  Chateaubrun,  were  among  Miss 
Jefferson's  other  convent  friends.  The  last  left  Paris  before 
her  Virginia  friend  did,  and  returned  to  her  home  on  her 
father's  plantation  in  Guadaloupe.    She  married,  later,  an  officer 


MRS.   THOMAS  MAX.Y  RANDOLPH.  19 

of  the  French  navy,  M.  Salimbeni,  and  a  change  of  fortune 
bringing  her  to  America  with  her  husband  in  trouble  when 
Mr.  Jefferson  was  President,  he  gave  them  some  assistance, 
and  thus  returned  to  his  daughter's  old  school-mate  some  of 
the  kindness  with  which  she  had  treated  those  first  desolate 
days  of  her  school  life.  This  lady's  letters,  when  she  first 
began  to  write  to  her  friend,  are  filled  with  descriptions  of 
balls  and  fetes,  and  of  boxes  of  West  India  preserves  which 
had  been  prepared  to  be  sent  to  her  "  chere  Jeff '/"  and  in  her 
last  letter  she  speaks  of  the  "  circonstances  malheureuses  qui 
m'ont  toujours  poursuivies  avec  une  espece  d'acharnement." 
She  died  of  consumption,  fading  away  slowly,  until  one  day 
she  was  found  sitting  in  her  chair  apparently  asleep,  but  really 
dead. 

The  last  year  that  Miss  Jefferson  spent  at  the  convent  she 
dined  at  the  abbess's  table,  at  her  father's  request,  though  at- 
tending her  classes  as  usual.  She  felt  this  to  be  a  restraint, 
but  soon  got  accustomed  to  it,  and  formed  some  pleasant  ac- 
quaintances among  the  lady  boarders  who  dined  at  the  same 
table.  This,  too,  made  her  transition  from  the  convent  life  to 
the  gay  society  into  which  she  entered  the  next  year  more 
easy  and  graceful.  Among  the  new  acquaintances  formed  at 
the  abbess's  table  was  Lady  Caroline  Tufton,  with  whom  she 
became  intimate,  and  with  whom  and  her  sister  Lady  Eliza- 
beth she  remained  always  on  the  most  cordial  and  friendly 
terms.  After  her  return  to  Virginia  and  her  marriage,  these 
ladies  wrote  her  affectionate  letters ;  and  one  of  her  father's 
farms  lying  at  the  foot  of  Monticello,  which  she  called  Tufton, 
in  honor  of  Lady  Caroline,  still  bears  that  name.  Lady 
Caroline  boarded  for  a  short  time  only  at  Panthemont,  when 
she  and  her  sister  went  to  stay  at  the  house  of  their  uncle, 
the  Duke  of  Dorset,  the  English  ambassador  at  the  court  of 
Versailles. 

It  would  have  been  strange  for  a  young  girl  situated  as 
Martha  Jefferson  was,  and  subjected  to  the  influences  which 
surrounded  her,  not  to  have  been  favorably  impressed  by  the 
religion  of  the  good  nuns  to  whom  she  was  so  sincerelv  at- 


20         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

tached.  They  on  their  part  seem  to  have  made  some  efforts 
to  convert  her  to  their  faith.  In  this  they  were  aided  by  the 
amiable  and  excellent  Abbe  Edgeworth  de  Firmont.  This 
worthy  man,  who  afterwards  remained  so  faithful  to  Louis 
XVI.  in  the  last  tragical  days  of  his  life  and  accompanied  him 
to  the  guillotine  as  his  confessor,  could  not  fail  to  make  an 
impression  on  the  young  Protestant.  She  became  deeply  at- 
tached to  him,  and  so  much  were  her  religious  views  influenced 
by  her  intercourse  with  him  that  at  last  she  found  that  her 
desire  was  to  join  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  She  was  too 
conscientious  not  to  communicate  the  state  of  her  feelings  on 
the  subject  at  once  to  her  father.  But  she  was  not  prepared 
for  the  shock  which  her  request  to  be  allowed  to  join  that 
Church  was  to  him.  He  listened  to  this  with  the  utmost 
emotion,  and  entreated  her  so  earnestly  not  to  take  any  such 
decisive  step  until  she  had  reflected  more  maturely  on  the 
subject,  that  she  abandoned  the  idea.  She  felt  that  she  could 
never  be  happy  in  taking  a  step  which  she  saw  would  cause 
him  so  much  unhappiness. 

Shortly  after  the  interview  with  her  father  on  this  subject, 
she  left  the  convent  and  went  to  live  with  him  ;  but  she  spoke 
of  the  Abbe  always  through  life  with  esteem  and  affection. 
The  last  year  of  her  life  in  Paris  was  now  spent  in  the  gay 
whirl  of  its  fascinating  society.  Her  most  frequent  com- 
panions in  going  out  were  the  Ladies  Caroline  and  Elizabeth 
Tufton,  Mademoiselle  de  Botidoux,  who  seems  to  have  been 
very  popular,  and  some  of  her  other  convent  friends.  The 
most  cordial  and  friendly  relations  existed  between  the  Duke 
of  Dorset  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  and  an  English  lady  Mrs.  Rob- 
erts, a  widow  who  was  an  inmate  of  the  duke's  house,  acted 
as  chaperone  for  his  nieces,  and  often  performed  the  same  kind 
office  for  their  friend  Miss  Jefferson.  The  young  people  seem 
to  have  made  the  most  of  their  opportunities,  and  to  have 
missed  none  of  the  enjoyments  of  the  gay  and  brilliant  world 
in  which  they  found  themselves. 

Mr.  Jefferson  limited  his  daughter  to  three  balls  a  week, 
and,  it  mattered  not  how  tempting  a  fourth  might  be,  the  rule 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


21 


was  adhered  to.  Whenever  she  went  out  she  lost  no  chance 
of  dancing,  of  which  she  was  passionately  fond,  that  being 
an  accomplishment  to  which  her  father  had  made  her  pay 
great  attention  at  an  early  age.  On  one  occasion  the  Duke 
de  Fronsac,  afterwards  Duke  de  Richelieu,  was  standing  near 
her,  and  remarked,  "  Vous  avez  bien  danse  ce  soir,  mademoi- 
selle." She  replied,  "  Beaucoup  !"  "  Et  bien,"  he  added.  At 
another  ball,  having  danced  eight  times  with  one  of  the  Po- 
lignac  family,  it  not  being  admissible  to  dance  twice  in  suc- 
cession with  the  same  partner,  she  knew  that  she  must  have 
danced  sixteen  times  at  least. 

The  beautiful  and  celebrated  Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire, was  in  Paris  that  winter.  The  freshness  of  youth  was 
gone,  but  the  same  ease,  grace,  and  sweetness  of  manner 
which,  united  to  the  most  extraordinary  beauty  of  form  and 
feature,  had  placed  half  the  world  at  her  feet,  were  still  there. 
With  this  distinguished  peeress  and  the  Ladies  Tufton,  Miss 
Jefferson  went  to  a  dinner  given  to  the  duchess.  The 
young  Virginian  was  the  only  lady  present  whose  height 
was  equal  to  her  own,  and  the  duchess,  observing  it,  said, 
"  It  gives  me  pleasure,  Miss  Jefferson,  to  see  any  one  as  tall  as 
myself."  But  she  was  invited  to  meet  another  distinguished 
woman,  a  more  world-renowned  but,  alas,  more  sadly  cele- 
brated beauty,  the  ill-starred  Marie  Antoinette.  She  was  to 
appear,  incognita  of  course,  at  an  evening  party  at  the  Duke  of 
Dorset's,  and  Miss  Jefferson  was  asked,  but  was  prevented  by 
an  untimely  indisposition.  It  is  needless  to  say  how  great 
was  the  disappointment,  and  that  it  was  one  she  regretted  all 
her  life. 

As  a  girl  of  sixteen,  Martha  Jefferson  could,  of  course,  only 
look  on  at  a  respectful  distance  at  Madame  de  Stael,  whom  she 
constantly  saw  at  balls,  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  gentlemen 
under  the  spell  of  the  wonderful  charm  of  her  conversation. 
The  Marquis  de  La  Fayette  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  pop- 
ularity, gay,  gallant,  and  agreeable,  and  he  never  passed  the 
daughter  of  his  friend  Jefferson  without  pausing  to  say  a  few 
gay  or  kind  words  to  her. 


22         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

The  first  threatenings  and  murmurings  of  the  approaching 
storm  which  was  to  burst  so  soon  and  with  such  fury  over 
that  devoted  city  were  heard  before  Jefferson  and  his  daugh- 
ter left  Paris.  When  the  king  was  brought  from  Versailles 
and  the  whole  population  of  the  city  was  in  the  streets  and 
in  an  uproar  of  excitement,  Miss  Jefferson  and  some  young 
ladies  were  placed  at  a  window  to  see  the  procession  pass  by. 
The  king's  coach  appeared,  and  they  received  a  bow  from  one 
of  his  chamberlains,  with  whom  they  were  acquainted.  Then 
there  rose  a  noise  which  they  could  not  account  for ;  it  sounded 
like  the  "  bellowings  of  thousands  of  bulls."  At  last  it  reached 
the  ears  of  that  part  of  the  crowd  nearest  to  them,  and  was 
taken  up  by  those  who  heard  it :  "  La  Fayette  !  La  Fayette  !" 
was  the  cry,  and  there  came  a  young  man  in  a  frock-coat  care- 
lessly riding  by;  he  looked  up  at  the  window,  saw  and  recog- 
nized Miss  Jefferson, — the  only  lady  in  the  party  whom  he 
knew, — and  bowed.  Never  before  nor  afterwards  did  she  re- 
ceive a  bow  of  which  she  was  so  proud.  Her  young  friends 
declared  they  were  filled  with  envy.  On  another  occasion 
she  was  at  a  party  in  the  country  near  Paris,  just  after  the 
French  officers  had  assumed  the  tri-colored  cockade.  There 
were  a  number  present,  and  they  proposed  to  transfer  their 
cockades  to  the  ladies,  who  accepted  them  at  once  and  pinned 
them  on  their  dresses.  Long  years  afterwards  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph's daughters  found  among  a  package  of  her  mementos 
a  faded  tri-colored  cockade,  and  learned  from  her  its  history. 
But  the  close  of  this  brilliant  and  gay  period  of  her  life  was 
at  hand,  and  she  left  Paris  for  America  with  her  father  and 
young  sister  the  26th  of  September,  1789.  They  did  not  sail 
from  England  until  the  22d  of  October,  and  after  a  passage  of 
thirty  days  reached  Norfolk  in  safety  late  in  November. 

From  Paris  to  Norfolk, — from  the  metropolis  of  the  world 
to  a  little  sea-port  town,  where  it  was  difficult  to  find  a  hotel  in 
which  decent  lodgings  could  be  had  for  the  night.  The  change 
was  terrible,  and  could  but  affect  the  spirits  of  the  travelers, 
no  matter  with  what  delight  they  landed  on  their  native  shores 
and  felt  they  were  within  reach  of  the  dear  home  for  which 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


23 


all  three  sighed.  The  lovely  little  Polly,  who  had  shed  so  many 
tears  on  leaving  Virginia,  seems  to  have  shed  quite  as  many 
on  her  return.  Rather  a  querulous  little  beauty,  she  stood 
what  was  disagreeable  in  the  situation  with  less  equanimity 
than  either  of  her  companions.  But  the  depth  of  her  misery 
was  sounded  when  a  little  boy  in  the  hotel,  after  making 
desperate  love  to  her,  gallantly  kissed  her  hand.  Her  sister, 
knowing  how  sensitive  and  diffident  she  was,  said  a  few  sooth- 
ing words  to  her;  but  she  was  inconsolable,  and  sobbed  forth, 
"Mais  c'est  bien  different  de  Paris." 

There  were  no  stage-coaches  in  those  days,  and  the  journey 
from  Norfolk  to  Monticello  was  performed  with  horses  lent 
by  friends,  and  in  easy  stages  from  one  friend's  house  to 
another,  visiting  in  turn  on  their  way  homeward  those  whom 
they  had  not  seen  for  years,  and  stopping  at  places  with  which, 
after  such  a  long  absence,  there  were  associations  both  pleas- 
ant and  sad.  For  an  account  of  their  final  arrival  at  Monti- 
cello,  I  must  here  ask  the  indulgence  of  the  reader  for  the 
repetition  of  words  used  in  describing  the  same  scene  in 
another  work : 

"  A  letter  written  by  Mr.  Jefferson  to  his  overseer  had  been 
the  means  of  the  negroes  getting  information  of  their  master's 
return  home  some  days  before  he  arrived.  They  were  wild 
with  joy,  and  requested  to  have  holiday  on  the  day  on  which 
he  was  expected  to  reach  home.  Their  request  was,  of  course, 
granted,  and  they  accordingly  assembled  at  Monticello  from 
Mr.  Jefferson's  different  farms.  The  old  and  the  young  came, 
— women  and  children, — and,  growing  impatient,  they  saun- 
tered down  the  mountain-side  and  down  the  road  until  they 
met  the  carriage-and-four  at  Shadwell  (four  miles  distant), 
when  the  welkin  rang  with  their  shouts  of  welcome.  Martha 
Jefferson  speaks  of  their  'almost'  drawing  the  carriage  by 
hand  up  the  mountain ;  her  memory  in  this  instance  may 
have  failed  her,  for  I  have  it  from  the  lips  of  old  family  serv- 
ants who  were  present  as  children  on  the  occasion,  that  the 
horses  were  actually  '  unhitched,'  and  the  vehicle  drawn  by 
the  strong  black  arms  up  to  the  foot  of  the  lawn  in  front  of 


24         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  door  at  Monticello.  The  appearance  of  the  young  ladies, 
before  whom  they  fell  back  and  left  the  way  clear  to  reach 
the  house,  filled  them  with  admiration.  They  had  left  them 
when  scarcely  more  than  children  in  the  arms,  and  now  re- 
turned— Martha  a  tall  and  stately-looking  girl  of  seventeen, 
and  the  little  Maria,  now  in  her  eleventh  year,  more  beautiful 
and,  if  possible,  more  lovable  than  when,  two  years  before,  her 
beauty  and  her  loveliness  had  warmed  into  enthusiasm  the 
reserved  but  kind-hearted  Mrs.  Adams." 

*  Mr.  Jefferson  and  his  daughters  reached  Monticello  on  the 
23d  of  December,  1789,  and  on  the  23d  of  February,  1790, 
Martha  was  married  to  her  distant  relative,  young  Thomas 
Mann  Randolph,  of  Tuckahoe.  The  marriage  was  probably 
hurried  that  her  father  might  set  out  for  New  York,  where  he 
was  to  take  his  place  in  General  Washington's  cabinet  as 
Secretary  of  State;  for  a  few  days  after  the  wedding  he  left 
home.  Mr.  Randolph  was  of  good  social  position,  of  dis- 
tinguished appearance,  and  a  man  of  talent;  he  had  been 
educated  at  Edinburgh. 

Young  as  she  was,  her  accepted  lover  was  not  the  only  one 
who  had  paid  his  addresses  to  Martha  Jefferson,  and,  if  we  are 
to  believe  some  of  her  Paris  correspondents,  there  were  more 
than  one  on  that  side  of  the  Atlantic  who  had  made  an  effort 
to  keep  her  there.  The  charm  of  her  manner  and  conversa- 
tion, even  at  that  early  age,  is  represented  as  being  very  great, 
and  but  for  the  contrast  with  her  singularly  beautiful  little 
sister  she  might  have  been  thought  handsome. 

When  she  first  returned  from  Europe  she  was  not  very 
favorably  impressed  with  Virginian  society,  but  on  visiting 
the  families  of  some  of  the  owners  of  large  landed  estates  she 
found  handsome,  well-bred  men  and  women,  who  in  refine- 
ment and  dignity  of  manner  did  not  differ  from  those  she  had 
left  abroad.  There  were  still  traces  of  the  old  colonial  style 
of  living,  and  of  its  school  of  manners,  which  would  have 
compared  favorably,  in  its  day,  with  any  in  the  world.  But 
the  establishments  where  this  style  of  life  was  kept  up  when 
Martha  Jefferson  returned  home  were  rather  the  exception 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  2$ 

than  the  rule.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  what  the  change  must 
have  been  from  the  gayest  and  most  brilliant  society  of 
the  world,  with  all  its  excitement,  to  the  primitive  country 
life  in  Virginia,  with  no  amusements  whatever,  and  which, 
contrasted  with  the  scenes  in  which  she  had  been  living,  must 
have  seemed  almost  barbarous  in  its  extreme  simplicity. 

It  was  well  therefore  that  a  suitable  husband  appeared  so 
soon,  and  that  in  the  novelty  of  married  life  the  young  bride 
and  wife  lost  all  thought  of  a  society  and  existence  now  far 
beyond  her  reach.  The  first  winter  and  summer  of  their 
marriage  were  spent  by  the  young  couple  at  Monticello. 
They  then  moved  to  Varina,  an  estate  belonging  to  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph, below  Richmond,  where  they  seem  to  have  been  very 
pleasantly  situated  and  to  have  passed  two  very  happy  years. 
The  only  glimpse  I  find  of  this  period  of  Mrs.  Randolph's 
life  is  through  the  letters  of  her  friends  who  had  visited  her ; 
one  of  these  being  her  old  convent  school-mate  Brunette,  who 
found  an  asylum  in  the  house  and  home  of  her  "dure  Jeff" 
on  her  arrival  with  her  husband  and  children  in  America, 
refugees  from  Guadaloupe.  She  writes  with  enthusiasm  of 
her  friend's  happy  situation  and  of  "  ce  bon  pays  de  la  Vir- 
ginie  que  j'aime  a  la  folie." 

Mrs.  Randolph's  sister,  now  no  longer  "  Little  Polly,"  as 
her  school-mates  always  called  her,  but  a  beautiful  young  lady 
on  the  eve  of  marriage,  writes  to  her  father  from  Varina  early 
in  the  year  1796,  and,  after  announcing  her  safe  arrival,  says, — 

"  I  found  my  sister  and  her  children  in  perfect  health  ;  she 
enjoying  the  satisfaction  arising  from  the  consciousness  of 
fulfilling  her  duty  to  the  utmost  extent  But  it  is  one  she  has 
always  had.  It  would  please  you,  I  am  sure,  to  see  what  an 
economist,  what  a  manager,  she  has  become.  The  more  I  see 
of  her  the  more  I  am  sensible  how  much  more  deserving  she 
is  of  you  than  I  am  ;  but,  my  dear  papa,  suffer  me  to  tell  you 
that  the  love,  the  gratitude  she  has  for  you  could  never  sur- 
pass mine:  it  would  not  be  possible." 

After  her  return  to  Virginia,  Polly's  name  was  changed  to 
Maria,  that  being  the  Virginia  pronunciation  of  Marie,  as  she 


26         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

was  called  in  France.  The  self-distrust  and  self-depreciation 
betrayed  in  the  lines  just  quoted  from  her  letter  were  promi- 
nent traits  in  her  character.  She  does  not  seem  to  have  had 
the  bright,  gay,  and  happy  temper  which  her  sister  possessed. 
To  deserve  and  retain  their  father's  unbounded  love  was  the 
highest  aim  in  life  for  both  the  sisters,  and  the  youngest  was 
always  troubled  with  the  fear  that  not  having  her  sister's 
talents  she  would  not  have  an  equal  share  in  his  affections. 
When  therefore  her  sister  would  exclaim,  sportively,  "  Oh, 
Maria !  if  I  only  had  your  beauty,"  she  did  not  receive  it  as  a 
compliment,  but  rather  as  an  insinuation  that  she  was  praised 
for  her  beauty  because  she  could  not  be  praised  for  talent :  so 
little  did  she  value  good  looks. 

Maria  Jefferson  was  married  in  the  autumn  of  1797  to  her 
cousin  John  Wayles  Eppes.  Her  winters  were  spent  at  the 
house  of  her  husband's  father  in  Chesterfield  County,  and  her 
summers  at  Monticello. 

About  the  time  of  this  marriage  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Randolph 
moved  to  Belmont,  an  estate  in  Albemarle,  not  more  than 
six  miles  from  Monticello.  Their  family  now  consisted  of 
three  children,  Anne,  Jefferson,  and  Ellen. 

As  giving  the  best  picture  of  Mrs.  Randolph's  life  at  this 
period,  I  give  the  following  letters  and  extracts  from  letters 
written  to  her  father.  The  first  contains  a  striking  illustration 
of  the  manner  in  which  children  were  made  hardy  in  the  past 
generation, — the  little  boy  alluded  to  in  this  letter  being  not 
quite  six  years  old: 

MARTHA  JEFFERSON  RANDOLPH  TO  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

"Belmont,  May  12,  1798. 
"  Dearest  Father, — Nothing  makes  me  feel  your  absence 
so  sensibly  as  the  beauty  of  the  season;  when  every  object  in 
nature  invites  one  into  the  fields  ;  the  close  monotonous  streets 
of  a  city,  which  offers  no  charms  of  society  within-doors  to 
compensate  for  the  dreariness  of  the  scene  without,  must  be 
absolutely  intolerable,  particularly  to  you  who  have  such  in- 
teresting employment  at  home.      Monticello  shines  with  a 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  2J 

transcendent  luxury  of  vegetation  above  the  rest  of  the  neigh- 
borhood as  yet.  .  .  .  We  have  been  all  well  but  Jefferson, 
who  had  declined  rapidly  for  sometime  from  a  disorder  which 
had  baffled  every  attention  and  change  of  diet.  But  Mr.  Sneed 
opening  school  and  Jeffy  being  hurried  out  of  bed  every  morn- 
ing at  sunrise  and  obliged,  after  a  breakfast  of  bread  and  milk, 
to  walk  two  miles  to  school,  his  spirits  returned,  his  com- 
plexion cleared  up,  and  I  am  in  hopes  that  his  disorder  has 
left  him  entirely.  He  is  much  mended  in  appearance,  strength, 
and  spirits,  which  had  been  low  to  an  alarming  degree.  Anne 
just  begins  to  read,  and  Ellen  points  at  grandpapa's  picture  on 
the  chimney  when  asked  where  he  is.  Adieu,  my  dearest 
father.  Blest  as  I  am  in  my  family,  you  are  still  wanting  to 
complete  my  happiness.  Monticello  will  be  interesting  indeed 
when  with  the  prospect  of  it  the  loved  idea  of  yourself  and 
dear  Maria  will  be  so  intimately  blended  as  they  will  in  a  few 
weeks,  I  hope.  Once  more  adieu,  and  believe  me,  with  every 
sentiment  of  affection,  yours." 

"  Belmont,  June  — ,  1798. 
"  It  is  easier  to  conceive  than  to  express  the  sensations  with 
which  the  sight  of  the  preparations  for  your  return  inspires 
us.  I  look  forward  to  Thursday  with  raptures  and  palpita- 
tions not  to  be  described  ;  that  day  which  will  once  more 
unite  me  to  those  most  dear  to  me  in  the  world.  Adieu, 
dearest  and  adored  father.  The  heart-swellings  with  which  I  ad- 
dress you  when  absent,  and  look  forward  to  your  return,  con- 
vince me  of  the  folly  or  want  of  feeling  of  those  who  dare  to 
think  that  any  new  ties  can  ever  weaken  the  first  and  best  of 
nature.  The  first  sensations  of  my  life  were  affection  and  re- 
spect for  you,  and  none  others  in  it  have  weakened  or  sur- 
passed these.  The  children  all  send  love  to  grandpapa,  and 
count  the  days  with  infinite  anxiety.  Yours  with  tenderest 
love  and  reverence." 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1800  Mr.  Randolph  moved 
with  his  family  to  his  own  estate,  Edgehill,  a  mile  from  Bel- 
mont, and  nearer  Monticello  than  that  place.     The  house  at 


28         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Edgehill  was  small,  but  there  seems  to  have  been  always  a 
spare  room  for  company. 

Mrs.  Randolph  was  now  the  mother  of  four  children,  another 
little  girl,  Cornelia,  having  been  added  to  the  number.  She 
also  had  the  care  of  her  husband's  sister,  Virginia,  whose 
mother  dying  when  she  was  very  young,  her  brother's  house 
became  her  home.  Mrs.  Randolph  bestowed  on  her  the  same 
affectionate  attention  which  she  would  have  shown  her  own 
sister,  and  added  to  her  other  kindnesses  that  of  educating 
her.  Mrs.  Randolph's  intercourse  with  her  husband's  family 
was  marked  by  the  most  perfect  self-abnegation,  and  there 
was  not  a  member  of  it  whose  affection  and  boundless  esteem 
she  did  not  command.  A  proof  of  this  was  the  fact  that  if 
the  brother  was  ever  the  object  of  any  ill  will  it  was  never 
extended  to  his  wife. 

Her  husband's  family  not  only  visited  Mrs.  Randolph  in 
her  own  house,  but  in  her  father's.  She  was  always  a  com- 
forter to  them  in  distress,  and  not  rarely  a  nurse  for  themselves 
and  their  children  in  sickness.  One  of  her  sisters-in-law  being 
with  her  on  one  occasion  in  delicate  health,  she  took  the 
trouble  to  attach  the  invalid's  little  boy  to  her,  though  she 
had  her  own  young  children  around  her,  that  his  suffering 
mother  might  be  relieved  of  the  care  of  her  son,  who  soon 
became  devoted  to  "  auntie."  The  following  letter  was  written 
soon  after  the  move  to  Edgehill : 

MARTHA   JEFFERSON    RANDOLPH    TO   THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 

"  Edgehill,  January  30,  1800. 
"  I  have  this  moment  received  your  two  letters  to  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph and  myself  (together),  and  by  the  same  post  one  from 
Mr.  Eppes,  informing  me  of  the  loss  of  his  child.  My  heart 
is  torn  by  an  event  which  carries  death  to  hopes  so  long  and 
fondly  cherished  by  my  poor  sister.  I  would  give  the  world 
to  fly  to  her  comfort  at  this  moment ;  but  having  been  disap- 
pointed before  in  doing  what  perhaps  my  anxiety  only  termed 
a  moral  duty  (visiting  her  during  her  confinement),  I  am  afraid 
to  indulge  any  more  hopes  upon  that  subject.     To  your  in- 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  29 

quiries  respecting  poor  Jupiter,*  he  too  has  paid  the  debt  to 
nature.  Finding  himself  no  better  on  his  return  home,  he 
unfortunately  considered  himself  poisoned,  and  went  to  con- 
sult the  negro  doctor  who  attended  the  Georges.  He  went 
into  the  house  to  see  Uncle  Randolph,  who  gave  him  some 
brandy,  which  he  drank,  and  seemed  to  be  as  well  as  he  had 
been  for  some  time  past,  after  which  he  had  a  dose  from  his 
black  doctor,  who  pronounced  that  it  would  kill  or  cure.  Two 
hours  and  a  half  after  taking  the  medicine  he  fell  down  in  a 
strong  convulsion  fit,  which  lasted  from  ten  to  eleven  hours, 
during  which  time  it  took  three  stout  men  to  hold  him.  He 
languished  nine  days,  but  was  never  heard  to  speak  from  the 
first  of  his  being  seized  to  the  moment  of  his  death.  Ursula,t 
I  fear,  is  going  in  the  same  manner  with  her  husband  and  son. 
.  .  .  The  doctor,  I  understand,  had  also  given  her  '  means,' 
as  they  term  it,  and  upon  Jupiter's  death  has  absconded.  I 
should  think  his  murder  sufficiently  manifest  to  come  under 
the  cognizance  of  the  law.  .  .  .  Adieu,  my  dearest  father.  I 
have  written  this  with  the  messenger  who  is  to  carry  it,  at  my 
elbow,  patiently  waiting." 

The  picture  of  the  negro  doctor  and  his  method  of  practice 
given  in  this  letter  is  a  perfect  illustration  of  the  strange  ideas 
of  the  science  of  medicine  entertained  by  his  race.  To  them 
it  is  half  science,  half  witchcraft.  In  by-gone  days  in  Vir- 
ginia, on  almost  every  plantation  there  was  some  favored  in- 
dividual, either  male  or  female,  among  the  slaves  who  was 
thought  to  be  endowed  with  the  power  of  effecting  wonderful 
cures  by  means  of  curious  signs  and  mysteriously  compounded 
drugs.  Their  ideas  of  physiology  were  particularly  striking; 
the  palate,  for  instance,  being  supposed  to  be  held  in  place  by 
a  particular  lock  of  hair  on  the  crown  of  the  head.  If  in  an 
attack  of  sore  throat  the  palate  "  was  down,"  the  inspired  phy- 
sician was  called  in  to  raise  it  by  tying  up  the  "  palate-lock." 

Hospitable  as  Jefferson  and  his  daughter  both  were,  the 


*  Mr.  Jefferson's  coachman  and  favorite  servant, 
f  Another  servant. 


30 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


crowds  of  visitors  who  thronged  the  open  doors  at  Monticello 
were  naturally  at  times  a  great  annoyance  and  burden.  The 
two  interesting  letters  which  follow  show  how  much  this  was 
the  case  in  the  summer  visits  which  Jefferson  paid  to  Monti- 
cello  during  his  terms  of  office. 

MARTHA  JEFFERSON  RANDOLPH  TO  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

"  Edgehill,  January  31,  1S01. 
"...  I  am  delighted  that  your  return  will  be  at  a  season 
when  we  shall  be  able  to  enjoy  your  company  without  inter- 
ruption. I  was  at  Monticello  last  spring  one  day  before  the 
arrival  of  any  one,  and  one  day  more  of  interval  between  the 
departure  of  one  family  and  the  arrival  of  another ;  after  which 
time  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  passing  one  sociable  moment 
with  you.  Always  in  a  crowd,  taken  from  every  useful  and 
pleasing  duty  to  be  worried  with  a  multiplicity  of  disagree- 
able ones,  which  the  entertaining  of  such  crowds  of  company 
subjects  one  to  in  the  country,  I  suffered  more  in  seeing 
you  always  at  a  distance  than  if  you  had  still  been  in  Phila- 
delphia; for  then  at  least  I  should  have  enjoyed  in  anticipation 
those  pleasures  which  we  were  deprived  of  by  the  concourse 
of  strangers  which  continually  crowded  the  house  when  you 
were  with  us.  I  find  myself  every  day  becoming  more  averse 
to  company.  I  have  lost  my  relish  for  what  is  usually  deemed 
pleasure,  and  duties  incompatible  with  it  have  supplanted  all 
other  enjoyments  in  my  breast, — the  education  of  my  chil- 
dren, to  which  I  have  long  devoted  every  moment  that  I  could 
command,  but  which  is  attended  with  more  anxiety  now  as 
they  increase  in  age  without  making  the  acquirements  which 
other  children  do.  My  two  eldest  are  uncommonly  back- 
ward in  everything ;  much  more  so  than  many  others  who 
have  not  had  half  the  pains  taken  with  them.  Ellen  is  won- 
derfully apt ;  I  shall  have  no  trouble  with  her ;  but  the  two 
others  excite  serious  anxiety  with  regard  to  their  intellect. 
Of  Jefferson  my  hopes  were  so  little  sanguine  that  I  discov- 
ered with  some  surprise  and  pleasure  that  he  was  quicker 
than  I  had  ever  thought  it  possible  for  him  to  be.     But  he 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  31 

has  lost  so  much  time,  and  will  necessarily  lose  so  much  more 
before  he  can  be  placed  at  a  good  school,  that  I  am  very 
unhappy  about  him.  Anne  does  not  want  memory,  but  she 
does  not  improve.  She  appears  to  me  to  learn  absolutely 
without  profit.  Adieu,  my  dear  father  ;  we  are  all  fearfully 
anxious  to  see  you.  Ellen  counts  the  weeks  and  continues 
scoring  up  complaints  against  Cornelia,  whom  she  is  perpet- 
ually threatening  with  your  displeasure.  Long  is  the  list  of 
misdemeanors  which  is  to  be  communicated  to  you,  amongst 
which  the  stealing  of  two  potatoes,  carefully  preserved  two 
whole  days  for  you,  but  at  last  stolen  by  Cornelia,  forms  a 
weighty  article.  Adieu  again,  dearest,  best-beloved  father. 
Two  long  months  before  we  shall  see  you.  In  the  mean 
time  rest  assured  of  the  first  place  in  the  heart  of  your  affec- 
tionate child." 

To  this  letter  the  following  beautiful  and  touching  answer 
was  written, — beautiful  in  its  efforts  to  quiet  the  anxieties 
about  her  children  of  an  inexperienced  and  ambitious  young 
mother;  touching  in  the  cry  with  which  it  closes  for  that  rest 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family  which  this  devoted  father  was  never 
to  enjoy : 

THOMAS    JEFFERSON    TO    MARTHA   JEFFERSON    RANDOLPH. 

"Washington,  February  5,  1S01. 
"My  dear  Martha, — Yours  of  January  31st  is  this  mo- 
ment put  into  my  hands,  and  the  departure  of  the  post  obliges 
me  to  answer  on  the  same  day.  I  am  much  afflicted  to  learn 
that  your  health  is  not  good.  ...  I  have  formed  a  different 
judgment  of  both  Ann  and  Jefferson  from  what  you  do;  of 
Ann  positively,  of  Jefferson  possibly.  I  think  her  apt,  intelli- 
gent, good-humored,  and  of  a  soft  and  affectionate  disposition, 
and  that  she  will  make  a  pleasant,  amiable,  and  respectable 
woman.  Of  Jefferson's  disposition  I  have  formed  a  good 
opinion,  and  have  not  suffered  myself  to  form  any  opinion, 
either  good  or  bad,  of  his  genius.  It  is  not  every  heavy- 
seeming  boy  which  makes  a  man  of  judgment,  but  I  never 


32 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


yet  saw  a  man  of  judgment  who  had  not  been -a  heavy-seem- 
ing boy,  nor  knew  a  boy  of  what  is  called  sprightly  parts  be- 
come a  man  of  judgment.  But  I  set  much  less  store  by  talents 
than  good  dispositions,  and  shall  be  perfectly  happy  to  see 
Jefferson  a  good  man,  an  industrious  farmer,  and  beloved 
among  all  his  neighbors.  By  cultivating  these  dispositions  in 
him, — and  they  may  be  immensely  strengthened  by  culture, — 
we  may  insure  his  and  our  happiness;  and  genius  itself  can 
propose  no  other  object.  Nobody  can  ever  have  felt  so  severely 
as  myself  the  prostration  of  family  society  from  the  circum- 
stance you  mention.  Worn  down  here  with  pursuits  in  which 
I  take  no  delight,  surrounded  by  enemies  and  spies,  catching 
and  perverting  every  word  which  falls  from  my  lips  or  flows 
from  my  pen,  and  inventing  where  facts  fail  them,  I  pant  for 
that  society  where  all  is  peace  and  harmony,  where  we  love 
and  are  beloved  by  every  object  we  see ;  and  to  have  that 
intercourse  of  soft  affections  crushed  and  suppressed  by  the 
eternal  presence  of  strangers  goes  very  hard  indeed,  and  the 
harder  as  we  see  that  the  candle  of  life  is  burning  out,  so  that 
the  pleasures  we  lose  are  lost  forever.  But  there  is  no  remedy. 
The  present  manners  and  usages  of  our  country  are  laws  we 
cannot  repeal.  They  are  altering  by  degrees,  and  you  will 
live  to  see  the  hospitality  of  the  country  reduced  to  the  visiting 
hours  of  the  day,  and  the  family  left  to  tranquillity  in  the  even- 
ing. It  is  wise,  therefore,  under  the  necessity  of  our  present 
situation,  to  view  the  pleasing  side  of  the  medal,  and  to  con- 
sider that  these  visits  are  evidences  of  the  general  esteem 
which  we  have  all  our  lives  been  trying  to  merit.  The  char- 
acter of  those  we  receive  is  very  different  from  the  loungers 
who  infest  the  houses  of  the  wealthy  in  general,  nor  can  it  be 
relieved  in  our  case  but  by  a  revolting  conduct  which  would 
undo  the  whole  labor  of  our  lives.  It  is  a  valuable  circum- 
stance that  it  is  only  through  a  particular  portion  of  the  year 
that  these  inconveniences  arise.  The  election  by  the  House 
of  Representatives  being  on  Wednesday  next,  and  the  next 
our  post-day,  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  something  certain 
about  it  by  my  next  letter.     I  believe  it  will  be  as  the  people 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  33 

have  wished ;  but  this  depends  on  the  will  of  a  few  moderate 
men,  and  they  may  be  controlled  by  their  party.  I  long  to 
see  the  time  approach  when  I  can  be  returning  to  you,  though 
it  may  be  for  a  short  time  only.  These  are  the  only  times 
that  existence  is  of  any  value  to  me.  Continue,  then,  to  love 
me,  my  ever-dear  Martha,  and  be  assured  that  to  yourself,  your 
sister,  and  those  dear  to  you,  everything  in  my  life  is  devoted. 
Ambition  has  no  hold  on  me  but  through  you.  My  personal 
affections  would  fix  me  forever  with  you.  Present  me  affec- 
tionately to  Mr.  Randolph.  Kiss  the  dear  little  objects  of  our 
mutual  love,  and  be  assured  of  the  constancy  and  tenderness 
of  mine  to  you.     Adieu." 

Read  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  the  interest  in  these 
letters  increases ;  for  the  "  heavy-seeming"  boy,  the  object  of 
such  tender  solicitude,  grew  up  indeed  to  be  the  "  man  of 
judgment,"  whose  loving  arms  in  the  hour  of  adversity  were 
the  stay  and  support  of  this  anxious  mother  and  fond  grand- 
father, as  the  warmth  of  his  affections  was  their  joy.  After 
a  long  life  of  usefulness  and  self-sacrifice,  sinking  to  rest  with 
the  declaration  on  his  lips  that  it  had  been  his  rule  through 
life  to  repress  all  feelings  of  resentment  for  any  wrong  done 
him,  he  was  borne  to  his  grave  amid  the  most  touching 
expressions  and  evidences  of  the  love  which  his  friends  and 
neighbors  bore  him,  while  with  him  was  buried  a  fund  of 
varied  information,  knowledge,  and  wisdom  which  there  are 
few  who  might  not  envy. 

As  usual,  Mr.  Jefferson  spent  the  summer  this  year  (1801) 
at  Monticello,  his  two  daughters  and  the  little  grandchildren 
being  with  him.  In  a  letter  written  in  the  spring  of  1802,  Mrs. 
Randolph  alludes  to  her  father's  return  home  in  the  summer, 
and  to  the  pleasure  of  their  meeting  at  Monticello,—"  though 
not,  on  my  side,"  she  adds, "  unmixed  with  pain  when  I  think 
it  will  be  a  precursor  of  a  return  to  the  world  from  which  I 
have  been  so  long  secluded  and  for  which  my  habits  render 
me  every  way  unfit."  This  dreaded  "  return  to  the  world" 
was  an  anticipated  visit  to  Washington,  which,  did  not  take 

3 


34 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


place,  owing  to  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Randolph's  children.  In 
the  same  letter  written  to  announce  this  disappointment  to 
her  father,  she  tells  him  of  the  illness  of  one  of  his  servants, 
and  speaks  of  having  sat  up  with  him,  together  with  a  lady 
friend,  "  all  night,  until  the  doctor  could  arrive,  which  was  not 
until  after  daylight."  She  expresses  great  sympathy  with  the 
sufferings  of  her  "  fellow-creature,"  and  speaks  of  "  the  fortu- 
nate circumstance  of  his  being  with  us  rather  than  at  home, 
for  if  nursing  and  the  most  unwearied  attention  can  save  him, 
he  shall  not  want ;  for  Mr.  Randolph,  the  doctor,  and  myself 
have  been  hourly  with  him."  What  could  be  more  pleasing 
than  this  picture  of  the  high-bred  lady  watching  beside  the 
bed  of  her  father's  faithful  slave  during  the  long  hours  of  the 
night,  and  not  being  willing  during  the  day  to  intrust  the  care 
of  him  entirely  to  others  ? 

The  two  sisters,  with  their  families,  again  passed  the  summer 
with  their  father  at  Monticello  in  1 802,  and  in  October,  after 
his  return  to  Washington,  he  wrote  to  insist  on  their  coming 
to  pay  him  the  long-promised  visit  there.  In  reply  to  this 
summons  the  following  letter  was  written  : 

MARTHA   JEFFERSON    RANDOLPH    TO    THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 

"  October  29. 

"  Dear  Papa, — We  received  your  letter,  and  are  prepared 
with  all  speed  to  obey  its  summons.  By  next  Friday  I  hope 
we  shall  be  able  to  fix  a  day ;  and  probably  the  shortest  time 
in  which  the  horses  can  be  sent  after  receiving  our  letter  will 
determine  it,  though  as  yet  it  is  not  certain  that  we  can 
get  off  so  soon.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  send  orders  to 
the  milliner, — Madame  Peck,  I  believe  her  name  is, — through 
Mrs.  Madison,  who  very  obligingly  offered  to  execute  any 
little  commission  for  us  to  Philadelphia,  for  two  wigs  of  the 
color  of  the  hair  inclosed,  and  of  the  most  fashionable  shapes, 
that  they  may  be  in  Washington  when  we  arrive  ?  They  are 
universally  worn,  and  will  relieve  us  as  to  the  necessity  of 
dressing  our  own  hair,  a  business  in  which  neither  of  us  are 
adepts.    I  believe  Madame  Peck  is  in  the  habit  of  doing  these 


MRS.   THOMAS  MA XX  RANDOLPH.  35 

things  when  desired,  and  they  can  be  procured  in  a  short  time 
from  Philadelphia,  where  she  corresponds,  much  handsomer 
than  elsewhere.     Adieu,  dearest  father." 

The  long-delayed  visit  to  Washington  was  made  this  fall, 
and  the  two  sisters  gladdened  their  father's  heart  by  spending 
a  portion  of  the  winter  with  him.  Mrs.  Randolph  was  in  very 
bad  health,  having  an  abscess  on  her  lungs,  and  her  physician, 
fearing  she  might  have  consumption,  advised  her  to  spend  the 
winter  in  Bermuda.  She  left  home,  therefore,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  staying  a  short  time  only  in  Washington,  and  then 
going  on  to  Bermuda. 

The  journey  from  Edgehill  to  Washington  was  generally 
accomplished  in  four  days.  The  roads  were  execrable,  and 
the  only  mode  of  conveyance  was  a  private  carriage.  For  Mrs. 
Randolph  the  journey  itself,  so  much  dreaded,  proved  to  be 
most  beneficial,  as  at  the  end  of  the  first  day  the  abscess  on 
her  lungs  broke,  and  the  improved  condition  of  her  health 
which  followed  was  such  that  the  intended  trip  to  Bermuda 
was  abandoned. 

The  pleasure  of  this  trip  to  Washington  seems  to  have  been 
unalloyed,  and  the  two  sisters,  who  thus  emerged  from  the 
seclusion  in  which  they  had  been  living  in  their  quiet  country 
homes  in  Virginia,  to  plunge  into  the  gayeties  of  the  capital 
of  the  nation,  showed  no  want  of  zest  in  the  enjoyment  of 
them.  To  Mrs.  Randolph  it  was  the  first  glimpse  of  the  world 
which  she  had  seen  since  she  had  enjoyed  the  delights  of  the 
brilliant  society  at  the  court  of  Louis  XVI.  As  the  daughters 
of  the  President  they  would,  under  all  circumstances,  have 
received  attention  and  admiration ;  but  there  were  graces  of 
mind  and  person  in  the  two  sisters  which  would  have  secured 
these  for  them  had  they  been  no  other  than  what  they  assumed 
to  be,  Virginia  ladies.  Years  afterwards  Mrs.  Madison  would 
describe  with  great  delight  the  impression  which  they  made 
when  going  into  society  together  that  winter.  The  singular 
beauty  of  Mrs.  Eppes  caused  all  eyes  to  be  riveted  on  her 
when  her  lovely  face  and  graceful  form  appeared  in  the  door- 


36         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

way,  while  the  charm  of  Mrs.  Randolph's  manner,  her  vivacity 
and  her  powers  of  conversation  made  her  the  centre  of  a  group 
not  less  enthusiastic  in  their  admiration  of  her  than  of  her 
beautiful  sister. 

There  was  the  usual  round  of  balls,  parties,  and  dinners,  in 
all  of  which  Mrs.  Randolph  participated.  To  Mr.  Jefferson 
the  burdens  and  cares  of  public  life  were  lightened  by  the 
presence  of  the  two  beings  who  were  dearer  to  him  than  life 
itself,  and  it  was  one  of  the  very  few  occasions  in  his  public 
career  when  he  enjoyed,  while  at  his  post,  the  sweets  of  daily 
family  intercourse. 

The  two  sisters  left  Washington  in  January  and  returned  to 
the  quiet  of  their  country  homes  in  Virginia.  The  family  was 
again  reunited  at  Monticello  in  the  summer,  when  the  con- 
dition of  Mrs.  Eppes's  health  was  such  as  to  excite  grave  ap- 
prehensions about  her,  which  were  too  sadly  realized  in  the 
course  of  the  twelvemonth.  Mr.  Jefferson's  two  sons-in-law 
following  him  to  Washington  in  the  fall  to  take  their  places 
in  Congress,  Mrs.  Eppes  was  easily  persuaded  to  spend  the 
winter  with  her  sister  at  Edgehill.  She  needed  indeed  the 
tender  care  and  attention  which  her  sister  alone  could  give, 
and  these  last  months  that  they  were  destined  to  be  together 
on  earth  were  thus  passed  in  the  closest  and  most  intimate  in- 
tercourse. It  was  a  period  of  great  physical  suffering  to  one 
and  of  the  keenest  mental  anguish  to  the  other. 

Every  attention  that  love  and  tenderness  could  suggest 
Mrs.  Eppes  received  from  her  sister,  who  left  her  chamber 
and  her  own  infant  that  she  might  assist  in  taking  care  of  the 
invalid  and  her  child  at  night.  That  there  was  no  improve- 
ment in  her  condition  during  the  fall  and  winter  we  learn  from 
the  anxious  tone  of  her  father's  letters,  in  one  of  which  he  ex- 
presses the  hope  that  the  evening  post  would  bring  news  of  her. 

But  the  good  news  of  the  invalid  never  came.  Her  child 
was  born  in  February,  and  there  was  a  flare-up  of  her  strength 
which  revived  hopes  of  her  ultimate  recovery,  and,  in  an  out- 
burst of  joy  betokening  the  relief  of  long-restrained  anxiety, 
her  father  writes  to  congratulate  her  on  hearing  of  her  well- 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


37 


doing.  "  A  thousand  joys  to  you,  my  dear  Maria,"  he  writes, 
adding,  "I  rejoice  indeed  that  all  is  so  well."  Alas  for  hopes 
destined  so  soon  to  be  blighted!  for  Mrs.  Eppes  soon  grew 
worse,  and  sank  steadily  until,  about  the  middle  of  April,  sur- 
rounded by  those  she  had  loved  first  and  last,  this  beautiful 
young  woman  passed  away  from  earth. 

For  the  first  few  hours  after  her  sister's  death  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph's grief  was  so  violent  that  one  attack  of  hysterics  suc- 
ceeded another.  At  last  she  received  a  message  from  her 
father  begging  her  to  come  to  him.  She  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  control  her  feelings,  and  went  to  his  room.  She 
found  him  with  the  Bible  in  his  hands  and  composed,  but  on 
seeing  her  enter  the  room  he  gave  way  to  his  feelings,  and  a 
violent  outburst  of  grief  ensued  from  both.  As  soon  as  he 
recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  speak,  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh, 
my  daughter,  I  did  not  send  for  you  to  witness  my  weakness, 
for  I  thought  I  could  control  myself,  but  to  comfort  me  with 
your  presence."  Those  words,  and  the  thought  they  sug- 
gested, that  she  alone  could  be  his  comforter,  instantly  gave 
her  strength  to  master  her  grief  for  his  sake.  "  I  felt  at  once 
strong,"  she  said  in  after-years  to  one  of  her  children,  in  de- 
scribing this  painful  scene.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  greatest 
proof  she  could  have  given  of  her  filial  devotion,  that  even  in 
the  first  wild  moments  of  her  agonizing  grief  for  the  beautiful 
young  sister  to  whom  she  had  been  half  mother,  her  father's 
first  cry  of  distress  should  have  centred  her  thoughts  on  him 
and  made  her  control  her  own  feelings  in  her  desire  to  soothe 
his. 

The  loss  of  this  loved  daughter  made  Mr.  Jefferson  cling 
with  increased  tenderness  to  the  one  still  spared  him.  The 
winter  after  her  sister's  death  Mrs.  Randolph  had  a  severe 
illness,  of  which  her  father  was  not  informed  until  she  had 
recovered  from  its  effects.  As  soon  as  he  heard  of  her  having 
been  ill,  however,  he  wrote  to  reproach  her  for  not  having 
told  him  sooner  of  the  danger  she  had  been  in,  and  assured 
her  that  but  for  business  he  should  have  gone  to  her  even 
then  as  "  fast  as  my  horses  could  carry  me."     The  anxiety  he 


38         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

expresses  about  her  health,  and  his  entreaties  to  her  to  take 
care  of  herself,  are  touching.     In  reply  she  writes, — 

"Nothing  could  have  been  farther  from  my  mind,  dearest 
father,  than  the  idea  of  exciting  alarm  in  that  bosom  which  it 
has  been  the  study  of  my  life  to  soothe  and  comfort.  .  .  . 
I  feel  my  importance  with  regard  to  yourself,  my  helpless 
little  girls  and  their  father,  whose  joint  affection  gives  to  life 
a  value  which  cannot  fail  to  render  me  sedulously  attentive  to 
the  preservation  of  it.  For  your  sake,  my  dear  father,  par- 
ticularly will  I  be  careful  of  myself,  that  your  declining  years 
may  not  be  embittered  by  the  loss  of  their  last  prop.  Adieu, 
with  every  sentiment  of  affection." 

Mrs.  Randolph  only  visited  Washington  twice  while  her 
father  was  President.  The  first  visit  was  made,  as  we  have 
seen,  with  her  sister;  the  second  in  the  winter  of  1805-6, 
when  she  took  with  her  her  whole  family,  now  consisting  of 
six  daughters  and  one  son.  On  the  occasion  of  this  visit  the 
wife  of  the  British  Minister  sent  to  ask  if  Mrs.  Randolph  had 
come  to  Washington  as  the  President's  daughter,  or  as  the 
wife  of  a  Virginia  gentleman.  If  as  the  first,  she  would  make 
the  first  call ;  if  as  the  second,  she  would  expect  it.  It  not 
being  the  etiquette  for  natives,  whether  residents  of  the  city  or 
not,  to  call  first  on  foreign  ministers,  Mrs.  Randolph,  under  her 
father's  instructions,  replied  that  she  was  in  Washington  as 
the  wife  of  a  Virginia  gentleman,  and  as  such  expected  the 
first  call  from  the  wife  of  the  British  Minister.  It  is  almost 
needless  to  add  that  the  ladies  did  not  exchange  visits. 

Mrs.  Randolph  had  ample  opportunities  for  indulging  her 
taste  for  society  during  this  winter  spent  in  the  President's 
house.  He  entertained  a  great  deal,  and  in  a  style  becoming 
the  station  which  he  held.  This  he  did  more  from  a  sense  of 
duty  than  a  taste  for  company,  which  was  often  a  serious 
burden  to  him  and  added  greatly  to  the  fatigues  of  his  official 
duties.  Three  times  a  week  he  had  dinner-parties,  the  company 
invited  being  members  of  Congress,  or  the  citizens,  and  any 
distinguished  foreigners  who  might  be  in  town.  Among  the 
distinguished  guests  entertained  by  the  President  this  winter 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


39 


was  the  ambassador  from  Tunis,  who,  being  the  latest  arrival, 
was  the  lion  of  the  day. 

True  to  their  Oriental  ideas,  this  embassy  came  loaded  with 
superb  presents  for  the  President  and  his  daughters,  and, 
equally  true  to  his  ideas  of  propriety,  Mr.  Jefferson  did  not 
allow  these  to  enter  his  house.  They  were  accepted  with  due 
form  and  courtesy  at  the  State  Department,  then  sold,  and  the 
money  from  the  sale  placed  in  the  Treasury  as  belonging  to 
the  government. 

In  a  society  composed  of  such  varied  elements  as  that 
which  was  entertained  at  her  father's  hospitable  board,  natu- 
rally many  incidents  occurred  which  afforded  amusement  to 
one  with  such  a  keen  sense  for  the  ridiculous  as  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph. Those  who  knew  her  well  can  remember  still  with 
what  zest  she  related  even  late  in  life  many  a  good  story  with 
which  that  winter  furnished  her.  A  close  observer  of  every- 
thing going  on  around  her,  and  a  good  judge  of  character, 
she  had  a  fund  of  anecdotes  which  added  not  a  little  to  the 
interest  of  her  conversation,  always  gay  and  sprightly. 

But  there  were  incidents,  partaking  in  no  way  of  the  ridicu- 
lous, which  revealed  to  this  high-toned  lady  party  hate  and 
malignity  such  as  she  had  never  dreamt  of  in  the  simple  and 
pure  life  of  her  quiet  Virginia  home.  In  the  early  part  of  Mr. 
Jefferson's  administration  gambling  was  indulged  in  to  a  great 
extent  in  Washington,  the  vice  extending  to  women  of  high 
position.  On  the  occasion  of  some  evening  entertainment, 
when  perhaps  cards  formed  one  of  the  amusements,  a  North- 
ern member  of  Congress  asked  Mrs.  Randolph  to  join  him  in 
a  game.  She  declined,  but  in  a  short  time  he  renewed  his 
invitation.  She  again  declined;  but  on  his  repeating  the 
request  the  third  time  she  assured  him,  in  a  manner  which 
could  but  carry  conviction,  that  there  was  not  a  game  of  cards 
that  she  could  play.  "  Is  it  possible,  madam!"  the  gentleman 
exclaimed.  "  Why,  with  us  the  universal  impression  is  that 
you  are  the  greatest  gambler  in  the  country,  and  that  if  a  per- 
son wants  office  nothing  would  favor  him  so  much  as  having 
lost  money  with  the  President's  daughter." 


40        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  was  at  this  time  in  Congress. 
It  must  have  been  in  his  intercourse  with  Mrs.  Randolph 
during  this  winter  that  he  learned  to  know  her  so  well  and  so 
to  appreciate  her  worth  and  talents  that  later,  when  her  health 
was  proposed  at  a  gentleman's  dinner  in  Virginia,  at  a  time 
too  when  he  was  one  of  her  father's  bitterest  political  foes,  he 
seconded  the  toast  with  the  exclamation,  "  Yes,  gentlemen, 
let  us  drink  to  the  noblest  woman  in  Virginia."  The  impres- 
sion she  made  on  foreigners  was  not  less  favorable.  The 
polished  Marquis  de  Yrujo,  who  was  then  Spanish  Ambassa- 
dor in  Washington,  said  she  was  fitted  to  grace  any  court  in 
Europe. 

But  not  in  the  delights  of  society,  not  in  the  charms  of 
conversation  with  men  of  talents  and  polish, — charms  so  fas- 
cinating to  a  woman  of  culture, — did  she  find  her  greatest 
happiness  in  this  visit  to  Washington.  That  was  in  being  so 
constantly  in  her  father's  society,  and  in  the  intimate  and  unre- 
served intercourse  which  existed  between  them.  Her  rever- 
ence for  him,  which  amounted  almost  to  adoration,  did  not 
prevent  her  sharing  every  thought  with  him  and  finding  in 
him  the  tenderest  sympathizer  with  her  every  joy  and  sorrow, 
whether  trivial  or  great.  The  death  of  the  beautiful  and  ten- 
derly-loved member  of  this  devoted  trio  seemed  to  have  drawn 
the  two  remaining  more  closely  together  than  ever.  Mrs. 
Randolph  had  access  to  her  father's  apartment  at  all  hours  ; 
and  when  an  unusual  press  of  business  left  him  no  spare 
moment  to  give  even  to  her,  the  key  of  his  room  was  put  in 
the  lock  on  the  outside  of  the  door ;  as  a  sign  that  if  possible 
he  must  not  be  disturbed,  but  that  if  she  chose  she  could 
enter. 

From  an  interesting  account  of  Mrs.  Randolph's  life  at  this 
period,  written  by  her  daughter  Mrs.  Trist,  I  make  the  fol- 
lowing extract : 

"  My  mother's  second  visit  to  her  father  was  in  the  winter 
of  1805-6.  She  had  then  lost  her  sister.  My  aunt  left  two 
children,  Francis  and  Maria  Jefferson.  The  little  girl  was 
only  a  few  months  old,  and  did  not  long  survive  her  mother. 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  41 

Francis  passed  that  winter  under  my  mother's  care,  his  father 
being  still  in  Congress.  One  of  my  brothers  was  born  that  same 
winter, — the  first  birth  which  took  place  in  the  White  House. 
He  was  called  James  Madison.  Mrs.  Madison  was  an  inti- 
mate and  much-valued  friend  of  my  mother's,  and  her  amiable 
playful  manners  with  children  attracted  my  sisters  and  my- 
self and  made  her  a  great  favorite  with  us.  .  .  .  My  oldest 
sister,  Anne,  completed  her  fifteenth  year  that  winter,  and 
was  not  yet  going  into  society;  but  my  mother  permitted  her 
to  go  to  a  ball  under  the  care  of  a  lady  friend,  who  requested 
that  my  sister  might  go  to  her  house  to  dress  and  accompany 
her  own  daughter,  near  her  age,  to  the  ball.  My  sister  ex- 
cited great  admiration  on  that  occasion.  She  had  a '  remark- 
ably classic  head,'  as  I  remember  hearing  an  Italian  artist  re- 
mark at  Monticello  upon  seeing  her  there  after  she  was  the 
mother  of  several  children.  Her  hair  was  a  beautiful  auburn, 
and  her  complexion  had  a  delicate  bloom  very  becoming  to 
her ;  and  with  the  freshness  of  fifteen  I  can  readily  imagine 
how  strikingly  handsome  she  was.  My  mother,  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Cutts,  went  to  the  ball  at  a  late  hour.  She  was  very 
short-sighted;  and,  seeing  my  sister  entering  the  ball-room,  she 
asked  Mrs.  Cutts,  '  Who  is  that  beautiful  girl  ?'  Mrs.  Cutts, 
much  amused,  answered,  '  Why,  woman,  are  you  so  unnatural 
a  mother  as  not  to  recognize  your  own  daughter  ?' 

"...  A  lasting  impression  was  made  on  my  memory 
by  the  reception  in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  Tu- 
nisian Ambassador  and  suite, — the  brilliantly-lighted  room, 
the  odd  appearance  to  my  puzzled  senses  of  the  rich  Turkish 
dresses,  and  my  alarm  at  receiving  a  kiss  from  the  secretary 
of  the  ambassador,  whilst  one  of  my  sisters,  just  two  years 
old,  whose  Saxon  complexion  and  golden  hair  made  her  a 
beautiful  picture,  was  honored  by  a  kiss  from  the  ambas- 
sador. I  heard  of  the  elegant  presents  brought  by  them  for 
my  mother  and  aunt,  which  were  publicly  exhibited  and  sold. 
My  mother  wished  to  purchase  one  of  the  shawls  intended 
for  her;  but  when  Mrs.  Madison  went  to  make  the  purchase 
she  found  that  she  had  been  anticipated  by  another  person. 


42 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


The  talk  about  these  presents  could  not,  of  course,  fail  to 
greatly  excite  my  curiosity;  but  my  desire  to  see  them  was  not 
gratified.  My  grandfather  did  not  allow  them  to  be  brought 
to  the  President's  house." 

The  following  letter,  written  after  Mrs.  Randolph's  return 
home,  is  a  vivid  picture  of  the  anxious  mother  at  the  bedside 
of  an  ill  child  : 

MARTHA  JEFFERSON  RANDOLPH  TO  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

"  Edgehill,  July  12,  1S06. 
"  I  have  suffered  so  much  from  fatigue  and  anxiety  since 
my  return  home  that  I  have  not  had  spirit  to  write  to  my 
dearest  father.  The  day  Mr.  Randolph  left  me  I  discovered 
my  dear  Ellen  to  be  very  ill.  .  .  .  The  speed  with  which 
Mr.  R.  moves  and  accomplishes  his  business  prevented  my 
sending  for  him,  as  he  could  only  have  been  brought  back 
two  days  sooner  than  he  intended  to  return.  His  business 
was  very  urgent;  and  the  heat  of  the  weather,  his  anxiety  and 
fatigue  would  have  endangered  his  health  so  much  that  I 
determined  to  depend  on  my  own  strength  and  the  advice  of 
the  physician.  The  complaint  from  the  beginning  seemed  to 
be  of  the  most  inveterate  kind,  with  so  much  fever  that  she 
became  through  the  day  delirious,  but  employing  every  lucid 
interval  in  reading.  Judge  of  my  feelings,  my  dearest  father,  at 
seeing  her  escaping  from  me  so  rapidly,  and  often,  when  hang- 
ing over  her  in  agonies  indescribable,  to  have  some  question  of 
natural  history,  which  she  was  reading  at  the  time,  addressed 
to  me  by  the  little  sufferer,  the  activity  of  whose  mind  even 
the  most  acute  bodily  pain  was  never  capable  of  subduing!  She 
sank  at  last  in  a  state  of  stupor,  which,  however,  seldom  left  her. 
She  was  as  certainly  saved  by  bleeding,  my  dear  father,  as 
others  have  been  killed  by  it.  Thank  God,  the  fever  has  inter- 
mitted. Ann  wrote  to  you  when  the  crisis  had  taken  place 
in  consequence  of  the  bleeding,  and  myself,  exhausted  with 
watching,  want  of  food,  and  anxiety,  had  taken  to  my  bed  under 
a  severe  illness.  But,  thanks  to  the  very  judicious  and  friendly 
attention  and  management  of  my  case  by  Doctors  Everett  and 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  43 

Gilmer,  who  by  sitting  up  with  Ellen  relieved  me  from  care  and 
anxiety,  I  was  not  confined  more  than  five  days.  The  fever- 
ish derangement  lasted  ten  days ;  and  to  the  false  strength 
which  that  gave  me  I  was  indebted  for  the  incessant  attention 
night  and  day  which  it  enabled  me  to  give  my  darling,  and 
by  which  perhaps  she  was  saved.  The  others  were  all  of  them 
sick  at  the  same  time,  and  required  also  unwearied  attention  to 
their  diet,  that  they  might  not  be  suffered  to  get  too  low.  Jane 
from  home,  and  not  a  female  friend  to  assist  me, — I  reflect, 
with  horror  that  no  language  can  depict,  upon  that  week." 

The  two  years  which  elapsed  between  Mrs.  Randolph's 
visit  to  Washington  and  her  father's  final  return  to  Monticello, 
freed  at  last  from  the  splendid  torments  of  public  life,  were 
spent  by  her  in  her  quiet  home  at  Edgehill.  Though  her  life 
there  was  so  hidden  from  the  world,  its  duties  and  its  cares  were 
very  great.  The  mother  of  seven  children,  the  mistress  of  a 
Virginia  plantation,  and  with  her  husband's  finances  always 
in  an  embarrassed  condition,  she  had  her  full  measure  of 
troubles  and  care.  Yet  her  good  sense,  her  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice,  and  her  bright,  happy  temper  bore  her  in  triumph 
through  every  trial.  The  "  little  girls,"  for  whose  sakes  we 
have  seen  her  expressing  such  anxiety  to  live,  never  had  any 
other  instructor  than  their  mother;  and  few  women  could 
boast  a  better  education  than  they  received.  So  admirable 
was  her  system  of  instruction,  and  so  great  her  power  of 
inspiring  her  young  scholars  with  a  desire  to  learn,  that  she 
found  it  oftener  necessary  to  use  the  curb  than  the  spur  with 
them. 

Excellent  as  she  was  both  as  the  loyal  wife  and  devoted 
attentive  mother,  yet  it  was  perhaps  as  the  kind  and  thoughtful 
mistress  that  Mrs.  Randolph's  superior  traits  of  character 
shone  forth.  Only  those  thoroughly  familiar  with  plantation- 
life  as  it  was  in  Virginia  can  appreciate  the  fact  that  the  mis- 
tress of  a  large  landed  estate  was  the  greatest  slave  on  it.  On 
her  devolved  the  duty  of  seeing  that  the  slaves  were  properly 
provided  with  clothes  and  abundance  of  wholesome  food,  and 


44 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


that  when  sick  they  received  every  attention.  She,  too,  was 
their  friend  in  every  trouble,  in  sickness  or  in  health,  and  into 
her  sympathizing  ear  were  poured  their  idle  or  just  complaints 
of  wrongs,  fancied  or  real.  With  what  patience,  with  what 
fidelity,  and  with  what  kindness  of  heart  Mrs.  Randolph 
discharged  these  various  duties,  the  devotion  of  her  slaves 
sufficiently  testified.  Sunday,  she  often  said,  was  no  day  of 
rest  to  her,  for  that  was  the  chosen  day  on  which  the  old 
negro  women  asked  an  audience  of  their  mistress  and  made 
their  wants  known  to  her. 

On  every  well-regulated  Virginia  plantation  the  wool  from 
the  flocks  upon  it  was  spun  into  yarn  and  manufactured  by 
the  women  into  very  excellent  cloth.  To  have  an  eye  to 
all  the  details  of  this  operation  was  no  easy  task,  and  required 
no  little  executive  talent;  but  Mrs.  Randolph  proved  herself 
equal  to  it.  No  greater  proof,  perhaps,  of  the  almost  Homeric 
simplicity  of  life  in  Virginia  at  that  day  could  be  given  than 
the  picture  of  this  lady,  with  the  tastes  and  accomplishments 
which  might  have  adorned  a  princess,  giving  out  to  her  maid- 
servants wool  which  they  were  in  due  time  to  return  to  her 
manufactured  into  a  given  amount  of  properly-woven  cloth. 
One  is  reminded  of  the  Greek  matrons  presiding  over  the 
work  of  their  handmaidens. 

Occasional  visits  from  a  friend  or  neighbor,  new  books 
sent  by  her  father,  her  harpsichord,  and  the  constant  com- 
panionship of  her  children,  were  the  relaxations  Mrs.  Randolph 
had  in  her  busy  but,  as  far  as  variety  and  amusement  went, 
dull  and  monotonous  life  at  Edgehill.  All  visits  from  neigh- 
bors were  generally  to  spend  the  day, — taken  in  its  literal 
sense, — and  not  to  make  morning  calls.  Nor  was  it  a  mark 
of  intimacy  to  make  such  a  visit  without  special  invitation  : 
a  carriage  driving  to  the  door  was  often  the  first  intimation 
the  hostess  had  that  she  was  to  have  company  to  dinner. 
Such  being  the  custom,  it  was  the  necessary  fashion  to  come 
early,  as  early  even  as  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock,  that  the  lady 
of  the  house  might  have  time  to  make  suitable  additions  to 
her  dinner.     The  visitors  generally  came  with  their  knitting 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


45 


or  embroidery,  sustained  an  animated  conversation  with  the 
ladies  of  the  house  for  an  hour  or  two,  which  was  followed 
by  a  mutually  agonizing  period  of  suppressed  yawns,  until 
dinner — always  an  excellent  one — was  announced.  The  meal 
being  over,  the  company  set  out  almost  immediately  for  home, 
which  was  generally  reached  after  dark  and  after  a  drive  of 
seven  or  even  twelve  miles  over  execrable  roads. 

The  happiest  days  in  all  the  year  for  the  mother  and  chil- 
dren at  Edgehill  were  those  on  which  the  dear  grandfather 
came  from  Washington  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  Monticello. 
His  journey  was  generally  so  timed  that  he  arrived  at  Edge- 
hill  to  breakfast,  and  when  he  started  for  Monticello,  a  few 
hours  later,  he  was  accompanied  by  his  daughter  and  the 
little  grandchildren,  whose  bright,  happy  faces  were  radiant 
with  delight  as  they  turned  towards  the  beautiful  spot  which 
they  already  knew  and  loved  as  their  home.  At  last  the 
days  of  separation  were  ended ;  and  great  was  the  joy  which 
filled  the  hearts  of  this  father  and  daughter  the  morning  he 
arrived,  not  as  the  President  of  the  United  States  on  a  hur- 
ried visit  to  his  country  home,  but  as  the  private  citizen,  who 
was  never  again  to  be  deprived  by  the  discharge  of  official 
duties  of  the  sweet  pleasures  of  domestic  life  for  which  he 
had  so  long  sighed.  The  move  to  Monticello  this  time  was 
permanent,  and  during  her  father's  life  it  never  ceased  to  be 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  children. 

The  early  days  of  this  return  home,  before  he  began  to 
realize  the  extent  of  his  financial  embarrassments,  was,  per- 
haps, both  to  Jefferson  and  his  daughter  the  happiest  period 
of  their  lives.  It  must  have  been  with  infinite  satisfaction  that 
she  saw  herself  established  with  her  family  in  the  home  of 
her  childhood,  and  her  children  growing  up  around  her  father 
with  a  love  and  veneration  inferior  only  to  her  own.  His  in- 
tercourse with  them  was  very  charming,  and  many  a  spring 
day  they  were  seen  trooping  after  him  as  he  went  from  flower- 
bed to  flower-bed,  planting  seed  that  were  soon  to  present  to 
their  longing  and  impatient  gaze  flowers  which  they  thought 
wonders  of  beauty. 


46         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Mrs.  Randolph  presided  over  her  father's  establishment,  and, 
in  addition  to  the  trouble  which  the  entertainment  of  crowds  of 
visitors  involved,  the  "  spinning-room"  fell  under  her  province 
here,  as  at  Edgehill.  Years  afterwards,  an  old  negro  woman, 
while  speaking  with  some  pride  of  having  been  one  of  the 
"spinners"  at  Monticello,  added,  "Oh,  we  were  so  bad  and 
troublesome,  I  wonder  how  mistress  had  the  patience  to  bear 
with  us  as  she  did !"  Her  favorite  recreations  were  reading 
and  the  cultivation  of  flowers.  Music,  too,  remained  a  great 
resource  to  her,  and  it  was  her  habif  to  play  after  tea  every 
evening  for  her  father,  whose  passion  for  music  is  well  known. 
After  his  death  she  did  not  play  as  much  as  she  had  formerly 
done,  but  it  was  noticed  that  she  was  careful  not  to  forget  his 
favorite  pieces,  which  she  continued  to  play  to  the  day  of  her 
death. 

Now  and  then  the  arrival  of  a  distinguished  foreigner  at 
Monticello  afforded  Mrs.  Randolph  an  opportunity  of  listen- 
ing to  conversations  whose  wit  and  eloquence  reminded  her 
of  the  brilliant  talkers  at  the  court  of  Louis  XVI.  Few 
men  of  note  came  to  America  who  did  not  visit  Monticello. 
There  Kosciusko  told  the  tale  of  Poland's  wrongs  and  sor- 
rows to  a  sympathizing  and  eagerly  listening  audience ;  there 
the  Abbe  Correa  de  Sena,  the  accomplished  Portuguese  phi- 
losopher, displayed  his  wonderful  powers  of  conversation,  so 
eloquent  and  so  brilliant,  yet  so  simple  and  full  of  grace,  that 
even  children  felt  the  spell  of  its  charm  ;  there,  too,  La  Fayette 
moved  his  hearers  to  tears  by  the  recital  of  the  horrors  of  the 
dungeon  of  Olmutz,  whence  he  had  emerged  shattered  in 
health  and  maimed  for  life  by  the  hardships  undergone  there. 

Enlivened  as  it  occasionally  was  by  such  visitors,  the  life 
at  Monticello  was  very  delightful.  The  place  being  sur- 
rounded by  scenes  whose  beauty  baffles  description,  mere 
existence  there  would  have  been  a  pleasure  to  one  so  appre- 
ciative of  nature  as  Mrs.  Randolph.  Great  was  the  delight 
of  a  life  when  to  this  pleasure  was  added  the  far  greater  one 
of  daily  and  intimate  intercourse  with  those  she  loved  best, 
and  the  frequent  enjoyment  of  a  society  at  her  father's  table 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  47 

which  in  refinement  and  intelligence  could  compare  favorably 
with  any  in  the  world.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  there- 
fore, that,  with  such  surroundings  and  associations,  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph and  her  children  should  have  been  devotedly  attached 
to  their  home  at  Monticello. 

The  most  welcome  perhaps  of  all  the  guests  was  the  Abbe 
Correa,  called  in  Paris  the  learned  Portuguese,  and  ranked  by 
De  Candolle  with,  if  not  above,  Cuvier  and  Humboldt.  He 
resided  for  many  years  in  Philadelphia,  and  visited  Monticello 
every  summer  or  autumn,  staying  sometimes  three  weeks  at  a 
time.  The  least  troublesome  of  visitors,  the  most  amiable  of 
men,  as  well  as  the  most  charming  and  interesting  of  com- 
panions, his  arrival  was  hailed  with  delight  by  the  servants, 
children,  and  grown  people  of  the  household.  Botanizing  was 
his  favorite  occupation,  and  in  this  he  found  an  enthusiastic 
companion  in  Mr.  Randolph  himself,  the  best  botanist  in 
Virginia.  They  spent  hours  almost  every  day  in  wandering 
together  through  the  woods  and  fields,  studying  the  flora  of 
the  country.  In  these  long  strolls  he  often  stopped  short  to 
talk  awhile  with  his  companion,  when  his  conversation  was 
so  animated  and  earnest  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  listen 
to  him  with  interest,  though  the  inconvenience  of  these  long 
delays  in  the  return  home  was  often  great.  He  was  of  low  stat- 
ure and  ungainly  in  his  appearance,  but  with  a  noble  head,  and 
large  dark  eyes  beaming  with  intelligence  and  good  humor. 
The  great  cordiality  and  perfect  simplicity  of  his  manner  were 
exceedingly  attractive  to  children,  of  whom  he  was  very  fond. 
He  was  well  versed  in  the  history  and  politics  of  Europe,  and 
his  powers  of  conversation  were  unsurpassed,  the  delight  and 
admiration  of  all  who  were  with  him.  The  room  which  he 
generally  occupied  while  the  guest  of  Jefferson  is  still  pointed 
out  as  the  "Abbe  Correa's  chamber." 

In  1824,  Mrs.  Randolph  welcomed  to  Monticello,  as  a 
broken-down  old  man  and  refugee  from  his  country,  the 
General  La  Fayette  whom  she  had  known  as  a  dashing  young 
officer,  the  darling  of  the  French  nation.  The  touching 
meeting  between  himself  and  his  loved  Jefferson  has  been 


48         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

often  described  by  those  who  witnessed  it.  But  not  less  in- 
teresting than  their  meeting  were  the  conversations  between 
these  two  old  men  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit.  When  in  the 
freedom  of  conversation  over  their  wine  after  dinner  they  re- 
verted to  the  stirring  scenes  of  their  early  lives,  its  reminis- 
cences and  incidents,  so  animated  did  they  become,  with  such 
eloquence  did  they  speak,  that,  carried  away  by  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  moment,  the  rest  of  the  company  involuntarily 
left  their  seats  at  the  table  and  grouped  themselves  around 
the  two  sages,  that  they  might  not  lose  one  of  the  eloquent 
words  which  fell  from  their  lips. 

It  was  while  dining  at  a  neighbor's  house  with  one  of  his 
distinguished  guests  that  an  incident  occurred  which  so  well 
illustrates  the  extreme  amiability  of  Jefferson's  character  that 
I  cannot  refrain  from  inserting  it  here.  The  gentleman  of  the 
house  was  noted  for  his  imperious  and  peevish  temper.  It 
was  already  past  the  hour,  and  dinner  not  announced,  and  the 
host's  darkened  brow  betrayed  his  ill-suppressed  impatience. 
Mr.  Jefferson  and  some  other  guests  happened  to  be  standing 
near  a  door  in  the  hall  that  looked  down  a  side-passage  into 
which  the  staircase  leading  from  the  kitchen  opened.  A  ser- 
vant, aware  perhaps  of  his  master's  brewing  wrath,  came  run- 
ning in  all  haste  up  the  staircase  carrying  a  dish  with  a  roast 
turkey  in  it,  and  as  he  made  a  sudden  turn  out  flew  the  turkey 
and  fell  upon  the  floor.  The  poor  domestic  stood  dum-^ 
founded,  with  the  empty  dish  in  his  hand;  but  Mr.  Jefferson, 
who  alone  had  seen  the  catastrophe,  stepped  forward  in- 
stantly, and,  picking  up  the  turkey  by  its  two  ends,  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  replaced  it  in  the  dish,  as  he  whispered 
kindly  to  the  frightened  waiter,  "  Never  mind :  put  the  turkey 
on  table,  and  say  nothing  of  this." 

Mrs.  Randolph  was  the  mother  of  twelve  children,  five 
sons  and  seven  daughters.  Of  these  last  the  second  died 
when  an  infant,  and  the  youngest,  from  being  the  seventh,  was 
named  Septimia.  In  allusion  to  this,  the  Abbe  Correa  used 
to  say,  "  Your  daughters,  Mrs.  Randolph,  are  like  the  Ple- 
iades :   they  are  called  seven,  but  six  only  are  seen."     The 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


49 


eldest  daughter,  Anne,  who  is  described  as  having  been  so 
beautiful,  was  married  when  quite  young  to  Mr.  Bankhead. 
Some  years  later,  while  Monticello  was  still  their  mother's 
home,  two  of  the  other  sisters  were  married,  Ellen  to  Mr. 
Coolidge,  of  Boston,  and  Virginia  to  Mr.  Trist. 

The  clergyman  who  officiated  on  these  occasions  was  Mr. 
Hatch,  of  Charlottesville,  an  Episcopal  minister,  and  the  only 
clergyman  of  any  denomination  in  the  village.  An  incident 
occurred  connected  with  him  which  is  too  illustrative  of  the 
primitive  customs  of  the  country  at  that  day  not  to  be  re- 
lated here.  Mr.  Hatch  was  on  a  visit  to  Monticello  one  day, 
when  Mr.  Jefferson  was  suddenly  summoned  from  his  library 
to  see  some  persons  awaiting  him  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  his 
door,  and  who  had  come  on  "  urgent  business."  On  going 
out  he  found  two  countrymen  on  horseback,  each  with  a 
woman  mounted  en  croupe  behind  him.  Their  business  was 
soon  explained.  They  had  come  from  their  homes,  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  off,  to  Charlottesville,  one  couple  to  be  married, 
the  other,  as  their  friends,  to  witness  the  ceremony,  and  they 
were  all  to  return  home  that  day.  When  they  reached  Char- 
lottesville they  were  told  Mr.  Hatch  had  gone  to  Monticello 
to  spend  the  day.  Not  being  able  to  await  his  return,  they 
had  followed  him,  and  called  Mr.  Jefferson  out  to  lay  the  state 
of  the  case  before  him.  Assuring  them  that  everything  should 
be  arranged  to  their  satisfaction,  he  kindly  insisted  upon  their 
dismounting,  and,  conducting  them  into  the  house,  sent  to  the 
drawing-room  for  Mr.  Hatch,  and  had  the  ceremony  performed 
in  his  own  presence  in  the  large  hall,  with  such  members  of 
the  household  as  chose  to  witness  the  ceremony.  This  being 
over,  the  happy  couple,  accompanied  by  their  friends,  mounted 
their  steed,  and  made  their  wedding-journey  back  home,  and 
have  doubtless  since  related  many  a  time  to  their  children's 
children  the  story  of  their  trouble  about  the  parson,  and  of 
the  kind  way  in  which  they  were  helped  out  of  it  by  the  old 
man  who  lived  on  the  little  mountain. 

The  happy  days  at  Monticello  were  happy  indeed,  but  there 
was  a  reverse  to  the  medal.     With  some  charming  guests 

4 


5o        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

there  came  crowds  who  were  attracted  either  by  curiosity  to 
see  the  retired  statesman  or  by  the  desire  to  spend  a  few  days, 
or  even  weeks,  at  a  pleasant  country  place.  The  number  thus 
entertained  was  very  great ;  and,  annoying  as  it  was  to  have 
one's  home  so  thronged  with  company, — often  self-invited, — 
the  expense  it  entailed  was  a  still  greater  evil,  for  with  the 
guests  came  their  servants  and  horses.  The  state  of  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson's affairs,  already  so  embarrassed  when  he  left  public 
life,  could  not  stand  this  additional  burden,  and  the  corre- 
spondence of  both  himself  and  his  daughter  betrays  an  anxiety 
as  to  their  finances  increasing  with  each  year.  It  was  but  the 
foreshadowing  of  the  grave  results  which  were  to  follow. 

Mr.  Randolph's  generosity  to  others  brought  bankruptcy 
on  himself,  and  Mrs.  Randolph  could  now  look  only  to  her 
father,  whose  own  fortunes  were  tottering,  for  aid  and  support 
for  herself  and  children.  In  one  of  her  letters  written  at  this 
time  she  speaks  of  her  son  Jefferson's  assuming  his  father's 
unpaid  debts,  of  his  exertions  in  his  grandfather's  behalf  which 
had  saved  his  property  from  a  forced  sale;  "and  the  sacrifices 
made  by  such,"  Mrs.  Randolph  writes,  "would  have  deprived 
his  revered  head  of  a  shelter  in  his  old  age.  My  spirits,"  she 
adds,  "and  consequently  my  health,  are  beginning  to  recover 
from  the  dreadful  effects  of  this  agitating  crisis."  What 
mental  anguish  these  lines  reveal !  And  yet  there  was  a  sorer 
trial  in  store  for  her.  A  few  weeks  after  they  were  written, 
her  daughter  Mrs.  Bankhead  died,  in  February,  1826. 

The  two  following  letters  so  touchingly  reveal  the  sorrows 
of  this  sorely-tried  family  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  inserting 
them  here.  Mr.  Jefferson  Randolph  was  in  Richmond  at  the 
time  they  were  written,  trying  to  get  permission  from  the 
legislature  for  his  grandfather  to  sell  a  portion  of  his  property 
by  lottery. 

THOMAS   JEFFERSON   TO    THOMAS   JEFFERSON    RANDOLPH. 

"  Monticello,  February  II,  1826. 

"Bad  news,  my  dear  Jefferson,  as  to  your  sister  Anne. 
She  expired  about  half  an  hour  ago.     I  have  been  so  ill  for 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  51 

several  days  that  I  could  not  go  to  see  her  till  this  morning, 
and  found  her  speechless  and  insensible.  She  breathed  her 
last  about  eleven  o'clock.  Heaven  seems  to  be  overwhelming 
us  with  every  form  of  misfortune,  and  I  expect  your  next  will 
give  me  the  coup  de  grace.     Affectionately  adieu." 

THOMAS   JEFFERSON    RANDOLPH    TO    THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 

"Richmond,  February,  1826. 
"  My  dearest  Grandfather, — Last  night  I  received  yours 
of  nth  conveying  the  heart-rending  intelligence  of  the  death 
of  my  beloved  sister,  an  event  for  which  I  had  been  in  a 
manner  prepared  by  previous  letters  from  home,  and  adding 
another  pang  to  your  afflictions.  Let  me  entreat  you  to  re- 
strain yourself  and  cheer  up  with  the  hope  of  better  times. 
We  have  proceeded  slowly,  but  surely,  we  hope,  in  your  busi- 
ness here.  The  vote  given  the  other  day  was  without  debate 
on  the  reading  of  the  bill.  ...  It  will  be  certain  to  be  taken 
up  day  after  to-morrow,  and  by  the  next  mail  I  hope  to  com- 
municate its  passage.  Preserve  yourself  for  our  sakes.  If 
the  worst  should  happen,  which  I  again  repeat  I  do  not  in 
the  least  apprehend,  neither  my  mother  nor  yourself  can  ever 
want  comforts  as  long  as  you  both  live.  I  have  property 
enough  for  us  all,  and  it  shall  ever  be  my  pride  and  happiness 
to  watch  over  you  both  with  the  warmest  affection  and  guard 
you  against  the  shafts  of  adversity.  How  wretched  are  those 
possessing  large  property  and  unfortunate  in  the  vices  and 
ingratitude  of  their  children  !  How  rich  you  are  in  the  vir- 
tues and  devoted  attachment  of  yours  !  Preserve  your  health 
and  spirits,  and  all  other  ills  are  but  comparative  and  imagi- 
nary, and  we  shall  all,  under  the  worst  possible  circumstances, 
be  rich  enough  for  our  desires.  On  the  passage  of  this  bill, 
which  is  not  doubted  by  its  friends,  our  ills  will  vanish  like 
smoke.     Your  devoted  grandson. 

But  the  ills  did  not  "  vanish  like  smoke."  To  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph the  great  agony  of  her  life — the  death  of  her  father — 
came  early  in  the  summer  of  1826;  a  few  weeks  later  another 


52         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

blow,  which  could  have  been  second  only  to  that  in  bitterness, 
— the  almost  certain  loss  of  her  home, — forced  itself  on  her. 
In  the  depreciated  condition  of  property  it  was  found  that 
Jefferson's  debts  would  swallow  up  his  whole  estate,  and  leave 
his  daughter  penniless. 

The  autumn  after  her  father's  death,  with  many  anxieties 
for  the  future,  so  veiled  in  painful  uncertainty  for  her,  and 
with  her  great  sorrow  still  fresh  upon  her,  Mrs.  Randolph 
went  to  Boston  to  spend  the  winter  Avith  her  daughter  Mrs. 
Coolidge.  Removed  from  the  scene  of  her  recent  affliction 
and  the  daily  cares  of  her  life  there,  it  was  thought  the 
change  would  be  beneficial  to  her  health  and  spirits,  as  indeed 
it  proved  to  be.  Enjoying  the  society  and  being  under  the 
watchful  care  of  a  much-loved  daughter,  she  received  from 
her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Coolidge,  to  whom  she  was  sincerely  at- 
tached, every  attention  that  kindness  of  heart  and  the  utmost 
delicacy  of  feeling  could  suggest.  In  the  haven  their  home 
afforded  her  she  therefore  found  rest  from  the  trials  through 
which  she  had  just  passed,  and  time  to  gather  strength  to 
meet  those  still  in  store  for  her. 

In  this  visit  to  Boston  Mrs.  Randolph  was  accompanied  by 
her  two  youngest  children,  Septimia  and  George,  while  the 
rest  of  her  family  spent  the  winter  with  her  eldest  son,  Jeffer- 
son, who  was  never  so  happy  as  when  his  mother  and  her  chil- 
dren made  his  home  theirs.  The  two  children  with  her  were 
placed  at  school  in  Boston,  Septimia  being  the  first  and  only 
one  of  her  daughters  who  ever  went  to  school.  The  little 
George,  the  youngling  of  the  flock  and  his  mother's  darling, 
who  grew  up  to  be  a  man  of  such  mark  and  distinction,  was 
not  taught  his  letters  until  he  was  eight  years  old.  There 
was,  consequently,  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  suitable  school 
for  him,  and  in  one  of  her  first  letters  from  Boston,  in  men- 
tioning this  fact,  his  mother  says, — 

"  The  difficulty  seemed  irremovable,  and  I  determined  to 
devote  myself  to  him  all  the  morning  till  the  time  for  dressing 
for  morning  visitors,  which  frittered  up  my  time  so  that  I  could 
do  nothing.     But  a  young  man  who  has  just  left  college  has 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  53 

opened  a  school  for  the  higher  branches,  but  to  which  he 
agreed  to  admit  George,  with  many  kind  and  affectionate  ex- 
pressions for  his  grandfather,  whose  name  he  venerates,  and 
whose  grandson  he  said  he  should  consider  it  an  honor  to  be 
permitted  to  teach  anything  and  everything  he  knew.  So  the 
poor  little  boy,  with  tears  of  shame  and  mortification  at  his  own 
ignorance,  accompanied  Mr.  Coolidge  yesterday  for  the  first 
time,  and  after  his  return  seemed  so  determined  to  have  his 
lessons  ready  that  he  hardly  allowed  himself  time  for  his  meals." 
In  another  letter  she  writes  of  the  little  boy, — 
"  George  is  a  very  fine  boy,  and  has  excited  a  good  deal 
of  interest, — so  industrious,  so  sensible,  and  so  affectionate. 
The  child's  attachment  to  me  is  becoming  a  passion.  The 
moment  he  is  out  of  school  he  runs  home  and  throws  his 
arms  around  me.  He  said  yesterday  that  he  thought  so  much 
of  me  in  school  that  it  made  him  unhappy  till  he  returned, 
and  in  going  he  said,  '  Thank  God,  at  two  o'clock  I  can  see 
you  again.'  " 

The  letters  written  by  Mrs.  Randolph  from  Boston  are  full 
of  interest,  and  give  a  perfect  picture  of  her  life  at  that  time. 
They  are  addressed  to  her  daughters  Mrs.  Trist  and  Miss 
Mary  J.  Randolph,  whom  she  had  left  behind  her  in  Virginia, 
as  we  have  seen,  at  their  brother  Jefferson's  house.  From 
these  letters  I  give  the  extracts  which  follow.  They  tell  their 
own  sad  tale,  revealing  to  us,  as  they  do,  the  touching  picture 
of  a  gentle  and  high-born  lady  suddenly  cast  down  by  for- 
tune and  writhing  under  a  great  sorrow,  which  was  embittered 
by  the  loss  both  of  a  home  and  a  support.  Yet,  unselfish  in 
adversity  as  in  happier  days,  she  feels  more  for  those  dear  to 
her  than  for  herself,  and  bears  with  courage,  calmness,  and 
dignity  the  reverses  of  fortune  which  had  fallen  so  heavily 
upon  her.  The  first  of  these  extracts  was  written  years  after 
those  which  follow,  but  finds  its  appropriate  place  here : 

EXTRACTS. 

"  I  can  well  understand  what  you  have  suffered  for  the  loss 
of  poor  H.,  and  the  recurrence  of  the  mind  to  the  days  of 


54 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


early  childhood  is  the  natural  effect  of  grief  in  the  first  hours 
of  its  bitterness.  When  my  dear  father  first  died,  my  mind 
for  some  time  was  in  the  state  of  one  in  a  vision.  I  lived 
over  my  life  with  him,  every  circumstance  appeared  to  pass 
in  review  through  my  memory,  and  if  at  that  moment  my 
thoughts  could  have  been  transmitted  to  paper,  it  would  have 
constituted  a  memoir  of  his  private  life  more  complete  and 
perfect  than  can  ever  again  be  written.  The  journeys  that  I 
had  made  with  him  in  my  childhood  were  still  so  fresh  in  my 
mind  that  in  traveling  the  same  road  afterwards  in  my  journey 
to  Boston  I  was  overwhelmed  with  melancholy  recollections. 
As  much  as  every  object  had  changed,  the  old  scenes,  asso- 
ciated with  the  names  of  the  places  we  had  visited  together, 
rose  fresh  in  my  mind  to  make  the  contrast  yet  more  bitter. 
Yet  I  must  do  myself  the  justice  to  say  that,  great  as  that 
contrast  was,  it  was  not  that,  it  was  not  the  loss  of  fortune 
and  of  hope,  but  of  the  being  on  earth  I  most  idolized,  and 
one  of  whom  the  thought  had  for  years  past  become  a  habit 
of  my  mind.  His  age  and  his  infirmities,  and  the  near  termi- 
nation of  that  precious  life,  had  long  weighed  upon  my  spirits, 
and  the  darkness  of  the  future,  impervious  even  to  the  eye 
of  the  imagination,  admitted  not  one  ray  of  light  or  hope  to 
enlighten  the  gloom." 

"November  22,  1826. 

"  Now  that  I  shall  have  my  mornings  free,  I  can  write  reg- 
ularly to  you  all,  dear  children  of  my  heart.  I  have  thought 
of  you  but  once  since  I  left  you,  and  that  was  from  the  morn- 
ing of  our  sorrowful  parting  until  the  present  moment.  My 
health,  strength,  and  spirits  have  all  recruited  very  much.  If 
hope  could  ever  exist  again  in  my  heart,  I  should  say  that  our 
prospects  are  brightening.  But  I  shall  never  expect  good  for- 
tune until  I  lay  my  hand  upon  it,  and  even  then  I  shall  wash 
my  face  to  see  if  I  am  really  awake  and  not  dreaming.  Now 
that  I  have  become  reconciled  to  the  prospect  of  earning  my 
bread  by  a  school,  it  remains  to  be  proven  whether  when  the 
cup  of  bitterness  is  actually  pressed  to  my  lips  I  can  take  it 
with  the  same  philosophy  that  I  do  a  necessary  medicine  that 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH. 


55 


is  to  restore  health.  God  help  me  if  that  fail !  I  should  not 
long  be  here  to  eat  the  bread  of  dependence,  or  to  see  my 
children  beggars.  Upon  their  success  in  life  I  believe  mine 
depends.  Adieu,  dearest  Virginia.  I  dare  not  think  of  you, 
or  rather  give  way  to  my  thoughts,  anywhere  but  in  the  re- 
tirement of  my  own  bed-chamber ;  for,  though  I  can  command 
every  other  demonstration  of  grief,  the  tears  will  occasionally 
drop  from  my  eyes  when  I  forget  to  restrain  my  sad  thoughts, 
which  will  revert  to  past,  present,  and  future  scenes,  all  fraught 
with  wretchedness  and  anxiety.  Adieu  again,  and  God  bless 
you  and  my  other  dear  children  and  grandchildren,  from 
N.  down  to  my  precious  little  Willie  and  P.  Remember  me 
to  every  one  of  them  ;  to  my  good  neighbors  all,  and  the 
servants  every  one.  God  knows  my  heart  is  overflowing 
with  love  for  many  and  kindness  to  all." 

"  December  12,  1826. 
"  Perhaps  I  may  get  one  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  dol- 
lars from  Congress,  if  they  see  fit  to  pay  a  just  debt, — money 
actually  advanced  by  my  dear  father,  originally  five  hundred 
dollars,  now,  with  the  interest  of  twenty  years,  more  than 
doubled.  But  that  is  uncertain,  although  I  have  looked  to  it 
as  a  resource  to  fix  up  my  school.  I  have  fixed  my  eye  so 
steadily  upon  the  Gorgon's  head  that  it  is  producing  its  effect, 
and  I  am  every  day  more  callous  or  more  resigned  to  the 
drudgery  of  it.  If  we  should  succeed  and  make  anything, 
those  profits  might  be  placed  in  the  funds,  so  as  to  give  a 
support  for  the  years  in  which  I  may  no  longer  be  able  to  do 
anything  for  myself.  Unfortunately,  I  was  educated  as  the 
heiress  to  a  great  estate,  and  was  learning  music,  etc.,  etc., 
when  I  ought  to  have  been  acquiring  dexterity  with  my 
needle ;  but  I  believe  no  good  management  of  mine  could, 
under  the  circumstances  in  which  we  have  been  placed,  have 
saved  the  estate,  although  it  might  have  added,  and  no  doubt 
would,  to  the  comfort  and  elegance  of  our  living ;  but  my 
education  may  still  be  the  means  of  procuring  us  food  and 
raiment." 


56        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"  December  28,  1826. 

"  With  regard  to  a  removal  from  the  neighborhood,  what- 
ever place  will  be  most  favorable  for  our  future  business  will 
be  best  for  us.  Although  I  still  believe  we  should  have  the 
advantage  of  respect  and  affection — everything  to  persons  who 
have  lost  everything  else — in  a  degree  in  our  own  neighbor- 
hood, where  we  are  known  and  appreciated,  that  as  strangers 
we  could  hope  for  nowhere  else  ;  but  this,  after  all,  is  a  sec- 
ondary consideration.  I  received  a  letter  from  your  brother 
(Jefferson)  yesterday  of  so  cheerful  a  tone  that  it  has  made  me 
feel  more  light-hearted  than  usual,  although  he  still  repeats 
that  we  have  nothing  but  our  own  exertions  to  depend  upon. 
I  have  never  for  one  moment  believed  otherwise ;  but  we  are 
all  young,  and  the  struggle  is  over,  our  minds  being  made  up 
for  the  future,  and  I  trust  we  all  have  strength  of  mind  suffi- 
cient to  make  the  necessary  exertion  gracefully  and  cheerfully. 
I  hope  Jefferson  will  be  able  to  assist  his  brothers,  at  least 
till  /can  contribute  my  share.  I  write  that  /  boldly,  because 
with  returning  health  and  strength  I  feel  an  energy  that  I 
trust  will  not  spend  itself  in  words.  .  .  .  We  were  at  an 
oratorio  Christmas  eve,  where  there  was  certainly  a  tinta- 
marre  de  tousles  diables  ;  but  if  you  ask  me  about  the  music  I 
must  answer  you  by  a  quotation  from  old  Alberti,  '  De  damn 
dog  make  such  a  noise  me  no  hear  de  music  ;'*  but  I  was 
obliged  to  keep  that  to  myself,  and,  praising  that  which  was 
good,  say  nothing  of  the  bad.  Tell  my  dear  Lewis  that  I  have 
been  made  truly  happy  by  hearing  how  steadily  he  has  been 
going  on  with  his  studies  since  I  left ;  but  they  have  none  of 
them  written  to  me.  Ben's  energy  of  character  I  depend  on 
to  make  him  a  useful  member  of  society  if  properly  applied, 
and  I  hope  James  will  not  be  deficient  when  he  sees  us  all 
cheerfully  laboring  for  the  same  end.  God  bless  you,  my 
dear  Mary.  Nicholas  furnished  us  with  a  motto  that  we 
ought  to  adopt :  a  tree  without  leaves,  and  '  reflorebo.' 
Brighter  days  will  come.     This  winter  will  be  very  serviceable 

*A  speech  made  by  Alberti  when  taken  to  a  fox-hunt  and  asked  how  he  liked 
the  music  of  the  pack  of  hounds  in  full  cry. 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  57 

to  us  all,  and  when  we  meet  it  will  be,  I  hope,  to  show  our- 
selves worthy  of  our  origin.  Through  life  I  have  had  a  bright 
example  of  fortitude,  cheerfulness,  and  dignified  resignation 
to   unavoidable   evil.     Once    more,    God    bless   you    all,  my 

beloved  ones. 

"Your  own  devoted  mother." 


1S26. 


"  Comfortable  as  I  am  here,  and  sorry  as  I  shall  be  to  leave 
Ellen,  yet,  in  truth,  '  Home  is  home,  be  it  ever  so  homely,' 
and  my  heart  is  constantly  hovering  around  it.  For  myself, 
as  I  must  resign  the  spot  which  sheltered  whilst  living,  and 
now  contains  the  only  earthly  remains  of  my  dear,  dear 
father,  on  my  own  account  I  do  not  care  where  I  go  ;  for  your 
sakes,  I  wish  to  do  that  which  is  most  for  your  interests,  my 
dear  children  ;  but  I  cannot  but  look  back  to  Monticello,  as 
Eve  did  to  Paradise  after  they  were  driven  forth  into  the 
wilderness  of  the  world.  .  .  .  Excuse  this  illegible  scrawl, 
but  really,  inexplicable  as  it  may  seem,  I  have  even  less  time 
here  than  at  home,  and  nothing  to  show  for  it.  We  breakfast 
at  half-past  eight;  at  nine  the  children  are  gone,  and  it  is 
nearly  ten  before  I  get  to  my  room;  at  eleven  I  dress  for 
morning  visitors ;  we  dine  at  half-past  two,  and  the  days  are 
already  as  short  here  as  they  are  at  their  shortest  in  Virginia. 
The  broken  intervals  in  the  forenoon  I '  mend'  for  the  children 
and  myself,  and  write.  After  dinner  I  strum  a  little  on  the 
piano,  and  help  George  and  Septimia  with  their  lessons.  A 
most  unsatisfactory  day  it  makes,  and  a  very  idle  one.  Mr.  C. 
insists  much  on  my  walking,  and  I  really,  unless  it  was  the 
day  we  played  truant  from  a  stupid  preacher,  have  never  had 
time.     Adieu." 

"  December  21,  1S26. 

"  I  judge  from  the  manner  in  which  George's  schoolmaster 
encourages  and  praises  him  that  he  has  never  required  the 
spur.  I  can  say  with  truth  that  /  have  never  eaten  one  meal 
in  peace  since  he  has  been  going  to  school,  for  his  'Come, 
mamma,  we  are  losing  time,'  rouses  me  from  many  a  pleasant 


58         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

conversation.     Poor   little   fellow,  it  is  the  only  trouble  he 
gives  me." 

"  January  17,  1827. 

"  When  I  return  we  will  determine  on  our  future  home, — 
as  dear  Monticello  is  out  of  the  question,  I  presume,  for  the 
present  at  least.  I  acknowledge  I  have  looked  forward  to  the 
possibility  of  returning  there  at  some  future  day,  when  our 
income  in  money,  clear  of  the  enormous  encumbrance  of  those 
large  families  of  negroes,  would  permit  us  to  control  our 
expenditures  ;  but  it  has  rather  been  a  vague  wish  than  a 
hope.  However,  one  prospect  of  more  certain  happiness  is, 
my  dear  daughter,  that  we  shall  all  meet  again  and  be  blessed 
in  each  other's  society.  Wherever  our  home  is,  there  also 
will  be  love  and  harmony.  ...  In  writing  me  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  sale"  (of  the  furniture  at  Monticello)  "  tell  me 
what  arrangements  have  been  thought  of  with  regard  to  a  resi- 
dence ;  for  no  doubt  the  subject  must  have  been  much  talked 
of  and  some  places  suggested  as  most  desirable.  Remember, 
in  all  deliberations  of  the  kind,  that  I  shall  have  no  choice 
but  the  interest  of  the  family.  I  still  think  we  shall  have  to 
keep  a  school;  and  wherever  we  can  do  the  best  in  that  line 
will  be  the  wisest  choice." 

"  January  22,  1827. 

"  I  have  been  very  anxious  to  hear  the  particulars  of  the 
sale  at  Monticello,  and  whether  the  paintings  have  been  taken 
down  yet.  My  father's  two,  Jefferson's  and  mine,  will,  of 
course,  remain ;  Mr.  Madison's  also  ;  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  treating  so  excellent  a  friend  well  to  sell  it.  ...  I  should 
also  wish  that  the  gold  medal  given  my  father  by  one  of 
the  agricultural  societies  of  France,  and  the  beautiful  medal 
of  Bonaparte,  and  Oliver  Cromwell's  picture,  should  be  re- 
tained ;  also  Coffee's  bust  of  Mr.  Madison.  I  hope  Jefferson 
will  not  think  me  unreasonable  in  wishing  to  retain  these.  If 
he  thinks  it  wrong,  however,  they  must  go.  There  were  some 
articles  of  the  furniture  that  I  should  have  wished  bid  in  for 
me,  but,  except  my  dear  father's  bedroom  furniture  (not  the 
clock),  and  what  belonged  to  you  girls,  and  Septimia's  and 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  $g 

George's  little  presses  that  your  aunt  Jane  gave  them,  I  did 
not  think  I  had  a  right  to  keep  anything  else.  My  heart  has 
been  continually  hovering  about  that  dear  home,  and  my 
imagination  at  work  with  a  minuteness  of  detail  that  has 
spared  me  nothing  but  the  sight.  I  know  it  is  necessary ;  I 
do  not  repine;  but  I  cannot  but  remember  that  such  things 
were  and  are  most  dear  to  me.  Do  not  think  that  I  give  way, 
my  dear  daughters,  to  low  spirits.  You  will  find  that  I  have 
as  much  exertion  and  self-command  as  our  necessities  demand. 
I  can  say  no  more,  nor  must  you  be  surprised  if  at  times  when 
I  cannot  be  occupied  the  unbidden  tear  will  start.  The  images 
at  the  bottom  of  my  heart  naturally  recur  when  my  attention 
is  not  forcibly  called  from  them,  and  that  every  hour,  nay, 
every  moment,  of  the  day." 

"  February  13,  1827. 
"  The  marble  clock*  I  should  have  prized  beyond  anything 
on  earth,  and  if,  in  our  circumstances,  I  had  felt  myself  justi- 
fiable in  retaining  a  luxury  of  that  value,  that  clock,  in  pref- 
erence to  everything  else  but  the  immediate  furniture  of  his 
bedroom,  I  should  have  retained.  However,  in  addition  to 
the  loss  of  the  clock,  which  I  regret  the  more  bitterly  since  I 
know  how  near  we  were  getting  it,  let  us  not  alienate  so  near 
a  relation  and  friend,  who,  I  dare  say,  is  sorry  for  it  now  that 
it  is  past.  I  am  very  glad  nobody  would  buy  the  old  sofa,  as 
many  a  time  will  my  weary  limbs  rest  upon  it,  without  the 
self-reproach  of  having  retained  a  luxury,  however  cheap,  that 
could  have  been  sold.  As  it  was,  the  high  sales  of  the  old 
furniture  only  showed  the  kind  disposition  of  the  neighbor- 
hood to  us." 

"  February  19,  1S27. 

"  The  approach  of  spring  makes  my  heart  turn  to  dear 
home  and  my  still  dearer  children,  only  to  remember  that  I 
have  no  home  and  am  seven  hundred  miles  from  so  many 
objects  of  my  love." 

*  This  clock — the  dial  between  two  black  marble  obelisks — stood  on  a  bracket 
over  Jefferson's  bed. 


60         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"  March  21,  1827. 
"  Your  father  speaks  of  joining  McKinney,  if  he  has  not  a 
partner,  '  somewhere  in  sight  of  Monticello.'  Oh,  how  often 
the  words  '  dear  home'  tremble  upon  my  lips  and  dim  my 
eyes!  Will  it  ever  again  be  my  home?  And  until  that  ques- 
tion is  decided,  where  is  our  home  to  be  ?  I  believe  it  would 
be  more  convenient  for  me  to  remain  here  till  the  fall." 

"  June  20,  1S27. 
"  God  bless  you  all,  my  beloved  children,  from  Jefferson 
down  to  little  P.  Remember  me  to  the  old  ladies  particularly, 
and  kiss  all  the  others,  boys  and  girls.  Do  not  forget  to  say 
something  to  our  kind  neighbors, — they  are  too  many  to 
name  them  all, — and  to  the  servants,  individually  and  gener- 
ally. Perhaps  if  I  mention  the  names  of  Wormley,  Burvvell, 
and  Johnny,  it  will  give  them  pleasure ;  and  I  certainly  think 
of  them  all,  male  and  female,  with  great  kindness." 

" ,  1S27. 


"  In  our  poverty  we  have  still  some  of  the  greatest  luxuries 
of  wealth, — consideration  and  respect.  I  never  feel  my  own 
dignity  more  than  when  in  company  with  a  rich  parvenu.  Our 
poverty  is  an  honorable  one.  Our  wealth,  which  was  great, 
was  not  spent  in  riotous  living  nor  in  extravagance,  but  it  was 
lost  by  the  time  and  attention  which  others  devote  to  their 
private  affairs  being  exclusively  devoted  by  my  dear  father  to 
his  country,  in  whose  service  he  was  worn  out.  He  retired 
from  public  life  too  old  to  learn,  and  too  infirm  to  attend  to  his 
own  business;  and  this,  with  causes  of  expense  incident  to  his 
situation,  is  sufficient  to  account  for  our  condition." 

So  end  the  extracts  from  letters  written  by  Mrs.  Randolph 
during  this  sad  period  of  her  life.  She  remained  in  Massa- 
chusetts, where  she  had  been  joined  by  one  of  her  daughters, 
and  where  she  boarded  part  of  the  time  in  Cambridge,  until 
the  spring  of  1828,  when  she  returned  to  Virginia.  Monticello 
had  not  yet   been    sold,  and   Mrs.    Randolph  went  there  to 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  6 1 

spend  the  summer  with  her  daughters.  Her  husband,  who 
had  been  traveling  at  the  South  a  part  of  the  time  which  she 
had  spent  at  the  North,  was  at  Monticello  when  she  arrived. 
She  found  him  in  very  bad  health,  and  on  June  26,  1 828,  he  died. 

This  stay  at  the  old  home,  besides  being  saddened  by  her 
husband's  death,  must  have  been  too  fraught  with  painful 
associations  to  have  given  her  any  pleasure.  The  venerable 
figure  of  him  whose  memory  consecrated  every  spot  of  the 
loved  home  was  gone ;  the  probability  that  the  place  itself 
would  pass  into  the  hands  of  strangers  had  now  become  a 
certainty;  and  the  lovely  landscapes  surrounding  it,  tran- 
scendent still  in  their  beauty, — could  the  joy  of  hourly  gazing 
upon  them,  with  all  the  soothing  influences  of  such  scenes,  be 
unalloyed  while  the  thought  was  ever  present  that  that  joy 
would  soon  belong  of  right  to  others?  Monticello  was  sold 
in  December,  and  Mrs.  Randolph  removed  with  her  family  to 
the  house  of  her  son  Jefferson,  who  lived  in  sight  of  the  home 
for  which  she  only  ceased  to  sigh  with  life  itself. 

The  present  condition  of  the  home  which  it  cost  this  loving 
woman  such  a  pang,  such  a  heart-wrench,  to  give  up,  presents 
so  great  a  contrast  to  what  it  was  when  occupied  by  her  and 
those  dearest  to  her  that  it  can  but  be  noted  as  a  striking 
illustration  of  the  vicissitudes  of  life.  Over  a  scene  whose 
cheerful  aspect  and  serene,  tranquil  beauty  had  seemed  to 
mark  it  as  safe  from  the  changes  of  fortune  there  now  breathes 
the  spirit  of  ruin  and  desolation.  The  lawn  whose  soft  turf 
was  so  often  pressed  by  the  eager  little  feet  of  the  young 
children  of  the  house,  as  they  ran  the  race  marked  off  and 
witnessed  by  the  aged  grandfather,  is  now,  a  waste  overgrown 
with  weeds.  The  terraces,  from  whence  the  visitor  looked 
down  on  scenery  unrolled  at  his  feet  whose  magnificence  is 
almost  dazzling,  are  falling  in  and  not  to  be  trodden. 

But  within  the  house  the  scene  is  still  more  painful.  The 
rooms  known  as  the  Madison  and  Abbe  Correa's  chambers 
have  within  the  past  few  years  been  sometimes  occupied  by 
negro  families.  The  drawing-room,  where,  amid  surroundings 
which  betokened  ease  and  good  taste,  Jefferson  was  wont  to 


62         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

spend  his  evenings  with  his  family,  now  presents  four  bare 
walls,  while  its  beautiful  inlaid  floor  generally  bears  marks  of 
the  dance  which  the  latest  picnic  party  has  had  upon  it.  Ad- 
mission to  what  were  his  private  apartments  is  almost  always 
refused.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  this  should  be  the  case ; 
for  I  imagine  there  are  few  so  curious  as  not  to  prefer  passing 
by  the  closed  door  of  Jefferson's  library  to  looking  in  and 
seeing  it  used  as  a  kitchen  and  the  cook  busily  engaged  in 
giving  their  dinners  to  the  negro  laborers  of  the  farm,  while 
everything  about  the  apartment,  black  and  filthy  as  it  is, 
would  make  an  Irish  hovel  seem  neat  and  orderly  beside  it. 

But  Nature  has  remained  constant  to  a  spot  on  which  she 
has  lavished  so  many  of  her  charms.  The  same  lovely  views, 
the  same  rich  scenes,  surround  it  still  as  those  through  which 
she  shed  her  sweetest  smiles  on  its  former  occupants.  She 
would  honor  the  dead  as  much  as  the  living;  and  the  un- 
dimmed  brightness  with  which  the  stars  pour  their  soft  light 
upon  the  graves  on  that  lonely  mountain-side  shows  that  as 
pure  an  atmosphere  still  enwraps  the  whole  as  when  they 
moved  as  living  beings  through  scenes  in  which  for  long 
years  they  have  slept  the  silent  sleep  of  death. 

During  the  year  which  Mrs.  Randolph  spent  with  her  son, 
the  plan  of  keeping  a  female  boarding-school,  with  her  daugh- 
ters as  assistant  teachers,  was  again  suggested.  While  it  was 
under  discussion,  however,  the  necessity  for  it  was  removed 
by  the  generous  donation  from  South  Carolina  of  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  to  Mrs.  Randolph.  Louisiana  soon  followed  the 
example  of  her  sister  State,  by  giving  her  the  same  sum ;  and 
thus  the  fear  which  had  haunted  her  day  and  night,  of  seeing 
her  children  in  want  and  having  herself  to  eat  the  bread  of 
dependence,  was  removed  from  the  breast  of  this  gentle  and 
suffering  but  brave  and  high-spirited  lady.  She  now  had  the 
means  to  secure  for  herself  and  those  dearest  to  her  the  neces- 
saries of  life ;  and  more  she  did  not  ask.  Nor  more  did  the 
country  her  father  had  served  so  well  intend  her  to  have. 
The  plan  that  each  State  should  give  her  ten  thousand  dollars 
apiece  was  forgotten  as  soon  as  South  Carolina  and  Louisiana 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  63 

made  their  donations ;  while  the  just  debt  of  the  paltry  sum 
of  twelve  hundred  dollars  due  from  Congress  to  her  father 
for  money  advanced  by  him  was  never  paid. 

Mr.  Clay  having  secured  a  clerkship  in  the  State  Depart- 
ment for  Mr.  Trist,  Mrs.  Randolph's  son-in-law,  she  determined 
to  live  in  his  house  in  Washington  with  her  daughters  and 
her  two  orphan  grandchildren,  the  son  and  daughter  of  her 
daughter  Mrs.  Bankhead.  She  therefore  turned  her  back  on 
her  beautiful  native  mountains,  with  all  their  lovely  landscapes 
and  tender  associations,  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1829.  In  Wash- 
ington she  was  received  with  every  mark  of  attention  and 
respect.  The  ladies  of  the  cabinet,  and  Mrs.  Donelson,  who 
presided  at  the  White  House,  cast  aside  etiquette  and  hast- 
ened to  make  the  first  call ;  while  the  President,  General  Jack- 
son, and  the  members  of  his  cabinet  paid  her  the  same  mark 
of  respect.  Nor  did  General  Jackson  during  the  whole  time 
of  her  residence  in  Washington  omit  to  call  on  her  once  a 
year,  accompanied  usually  by  the  Secretary  of  State. 

In  alluding  to  her  destitute  condition  before  receiving  South 
Carolina's  gift,  I  find  her,  several  years  later,  saying,  in  a  letter 
to  one  of  her  daughters, — 

"  But  time,  that  blessed  friend  of  the  unfortunate,  had  com- 
forts in  store  for  us  that  the  most  sanguine  dared  not  to  an- 
ticipate ;  and  I  have  been  saved  the  horror  of  seeing  my  dear 
children  withering  in  poverty  and  the  drudgery  of  a  school. 
Can  I  ever  forget  South  Carolina  ?  But  for  her  liberality,  her 
gratitude  to  my  dear  father,  where  and  what  should  we  have 
been  now  ?  God  preserve  me  from  the  sorrow  of  ever  seeing 
the  hand  of  one  of  my  children  raised  against  her ;  for  to  us 
she  has  given  the  comforts  of  life,  without  which  life  itself 
would  have  been  a  burden." 

Of  her  life  in  Washington  at  this  time,  her  daughter  Mrs. 
Trist  writes, — 

"  During  the  years  which  she  passed  in  Washington  she 
resumed  many  of  her  old  occupations :  her  taste  for  flowers 
revived,  and  good  music  afforded  her  enjoyment,  although  she 
no  longer  played  much  herself  after  my  grandfather's  death. 


64        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Her  habits  of  reading  she  never  lost;  and  she  always  began 
the  day  with  some  chapter  of  the  New  Testament.  She  was 
an  early  riser,  in  summer  and  in  winter.  She  liked  an  east 
window  in  her  bedroom,  because  it  enabled  her  to  read  in  bed 
before  the  household  were  stirring.  Every  year  she  visited 
alternately  my  elder  brother  at  his  residence  near  Monticello, 
in  the  southwest  mountains  of  Virginia,  or  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Joseph  Coolidge,  in  Boston. 

"  In  the  spring  of  1831  she  was  called  on  to  make  a  painful 
sacrifice  such  as  mothers  only  can  appreciate, — she  gave  her 
consent  to  George's  entering  the  navy.  After  passing  a  winter 
with  her  in  Washington,  he  had  entered  a  school  near  the 
University  of  Virginia,  when  a  midshipman's  warrant  was 
procured  for  him  ;  but  he  was  yet  a  mere  child,  and  his 
mother's  heart  sickened  at  the  thought  of  his  going  forth 
alone  to  encounter  the  naval  perils  as  well  as  brave  the  hard- 
ships of  a  sea- faring  life.  She  had,  however,  the  fortitude  to 
approve  of  what  was  judged  best  for  his  future,  and  her  sor- 
row was  borne  with  the  patient  and  cheerful  resignation  which 
belonged  to  her  character.  The  recollections  of  that  parting 
as  a  trial  for  her  stir  up,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  the 
long-dormant  feelings  which  I  thought  my  last  tear  had  been 
shed  for." 

In  allusion  to  this  painful  parting,  Mrs.  Randolph  herself 
writes  to  her  sailor-boy,  a  year  after  he  entered  the  navy, 
"  The  great  sacrifice,  perhaps  the  greatest  I  have  ever  made 
in  my  life,  was  giving  you  up  in  the  first  instance.  I  hope 
my  old  age  will  be  spared  such  another  day  of  agony  as  the 
one  on  which  I  parted  with  you,  my  dear  child ;  but  time  has 
reconciled  me  to  the  separation." 

In  the  spring  of  1831  there  was  a  hope  of  recovering  pos- 
session of  Monticello ;  and  I  find  Mrs.  Randolph's  letters 
written  from  Edgehill,  where  she  was  staying  with  her  son 
Jefferson,  filled  with  feverish  delight  at  the  bare  prospect. 
After  speaking  of  her  plans  in  the  event  of  her  getting  the 
place,  and  of  the  place  itself,  she  says, — 

"  Cornelia  spent  the  day  there,  and,  as  everybody  who  has 


MRS.   THOMAS  MA XX  RAXDOLPH. 


65 


been  absent  from  it  any  time,  was  surprised  to  find  it  such  a 
paradise.  All  these  are  delightful  visions,  which  serve  to 
amuse  the  hours  of  work,  always  dull  enough  to  require 
some  balm  to  the  spirit." 

To  the  letter  from  which  this  extract  is  made,  I  find  a  post- 
script written  by  one  of  Mrs.  Randolph's  daughters ;  and  the 
touching  devotion  of  the  whole  family  for  the  old  home  which 
it  betrays  must  justify  the  following  quotation  from  it : 

"  I  have  not  been  to  Monticello  yet ;  the  day  I  was  to  have 
gone  I  was  taken  sick  and  obliged  to  stay  at  home  ;  but  I  often 
amuse  myself  by  looking  at  it  through  the  little  pocket-tele- 
scope which  I  dare  say  you  remember.  A  part  of  the  north 
end  of  the  house  only  is  visible ;  the  rest,  including  the  por- 
tico, is  completely  shrouded  by  the  trees ;  but  I  recognize 
one  of  our  beloved  old  willows,  and  carry  my  eyes  over  all 
the  cleared  spots  and  woods  which  chequer  the  mountain,  the 
playground  of  our  childhood.  A  part  of  it  at  least  lies  before 
me,  smiling  in  the  sunshine,  and  some  well-known  objects — 
the  roof  of  the  stone  house  and  stable — are  distinguishable ; 
and  even  the  solitary  tobacco-house,  standing  not  very  far 
from  the  river,  has  the  air  of  an  old  acquaintance.  Mamma 
has  told  you  of  our  delightful  castles  in  the  air;  and  C.  and 
myself  are  talking  of  having  silk-worms,  when  we  go  back, 
in  one  of  the  pavilions." 

When  Mrs.  Randolph  first  visited  Edgehill  after  it  be- 
came the  home  of  her  son  Jefferson,  all  view  of  Monticello 
was  entirely  cut  off  by  a  group  of  magnificent  tulip-trees. 
To  be  so  near  her  old  home  and  not  to  have  it  constantly  in 
sight  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  Her  son,  therefore,  on 
returning  from  his  usual  morning  ride  over  his  plantation  one 
day,  was  appalled  to  see  these  superb  trees  lying  prostrate  on 
the  ground,  and  one  of  the  old  Monticello  servants  busily 
engaged,  with  others  under  his  command,  cutting  them  up. 
To  stick  spurs  into  his  horse  and  rein  him  up  in  front  of  the 
old  servant  to  ask  how  he  dared  "  touch  those  trees,"  was  the 
work  of  a  minute  for  Mr.  Randolph.  The  servant,  while  appre- 
ciating fully  his  young  master's  wrath,  knew  the  power  there 

5 


66         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

was  in  this  instance  behind  the  throne,  and  answered,  in  a  tone 
not  at  all  apologetic,  "  I  am  acting  under  my  old  mistress's 
orders,  sir."  "Then  you  are  doing  just  what  you  ought  to 
do,"  was  her  son's  instant  reply.  Devoted  as  he  was  to  his 
mother,  nothing,  perhaps,  could  have  given  him  more  pleasure 
than  this  assumption  of  authority  on  her  part  over  anything 
belonging  to  him.  Those  who  have  often  heard  him  relate 
this  anecdote  will  remember  the  countenance  beaming  with 
satisfaction  with  which  it  was  always  told. 

The  intimacy  and  affection  existing  between  Mrs.  Randolph 
and  her  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Jefferson  Randolph,  was  such 
as  is  rarely  found  in  similar  relations  in  life,  and  added  not  a 
little  to  the  happiness  of  both.  Each  had  undergone  the  suf- 
fering of  having  the  home  of  her  childhood — consecrated  in 
their  hearts  by  the  tenderest  associations  in  life — sold  under 
the  auctioneer's  hammer.  This,  perhaps,  made  the  daughter- 
in-law  particularly  sympathetic  with  her  husband's  mother  in 
her  sorrow.  I  well  remember  with  what  feeling  she  always 
spoke  of  having  on  one  occasion,  when  Mrs.  Randolph  was 
on  a  visit  to  her  at  Edgehill,  gone  to  her  door  and,  getting  no 
response  to  her  knock,  having  crept  in  softly.  She  found  the 
gentle  lady  lying  on  a  couch  in  front  of  a  window  which 
looked  up  to  Monticello  through  the  vista  she  had  herself  had 
opened.  She  was  asleep.  Her  face  was  turned  to  the  window ; 
a  half-closed  book  had  slipped  from  her  grasp,  and  on  her 
cheek  stood  a  tear, — the  unbidden  tear,  doubtless,  which  we 
have  seen  her  declare  would  start  when  the  thought  of  the 
past  forced  itself  upon  her. 

Mrs.  Randolph  returned  to  Washington  in  the  fall  of  1831. 
The  second  year  of  her  residence  there  she  was  joined  by  her 
son  Lewis,  then  in  his  twenty-second  year.  Conspicuously 
handsome,  full  of  life  and  talents,  and  with  a  winning  ease  and 
grace  of  manner  which  made  him  the  darling  of  every  society 
in  which  he  appeared,  few  things,  perhaps,  could  have  added 
more  to  the  happiness  of  his  mother  and  sisters  than  to  have 
him  living  under  the  same  roof  with  them  once  more.  Fasci- 
nating as  he  was  in  society,  his  tender  affections,  his  gayety, 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  6j 

and  his  strong  domestic  tastes  made  him  still  more  charming 
in  the  home  circle.  He  married  later  Miss  Martin,  moved  to 
Arkansas  to  practice  law,  and  died  there  not  main'  months 
after  his  mother's  death. 

Mrs.  Randolph  visited  her  daughter  Mrs.  Coolidge  in  the 
summer  of  1832,  and  I  find  her  writing  from  Boston  to  one 
of  her  daughters  as  follows  : 

"  If  I  had  lost  the  power  of  walking  and  eating,  for  both 
of  which  I  seem  to  have  renovated  powers,  I  should  resem- 
ble the  unfortunate  hen  whose  brains  had  been  extracted  and 
who  sat  still  and  fattened  in  her  stupidity.  I  have  lost  my 
memory  entirely,  but  not  my  taste  for  reading,  and  if  I  for- 
get what  I  read  at  least  it  amuses  me  for  the  time,  although 
it  leaves  but  a  vague,  misty  impression.  I  have  read  lately 
one  of  the  most  poetical  books  of  travel  I  ever  met  with, — 

Chateaubriand's    Itinerary   from  Paris    to    Jerusalem 

After  once  having  known  the  happiness  of  a  comfortable  home 
of  our  own,  how  bitter  is  the  moment  that  drives  us  from  it, 
and  how  little  interest  has  any  other  spot  after  it!  A  mere 
resting-place  for  the  while,  where  everything  is  confined  to 
the  present;  no  future  which  brings  anything  but  a  change 
of  place,  nothing  to  amuse  the  heart  or  interest  the  fancy. 
If  ever  I  can  afford  it  I  will  have  a  permanent  residence 
somewhere,  a  home,  in  fine, — a  feeling  I  never  shall  know  in 
a  rented  house." 

In  a  letter  written  later  she  expresses  great  sorrow  and 
sympathy  for  a  friend  who  had  just  lost  a  sister,  and  says, 
"  What  can  enable  her  to  bear  up  under  her  loss !  Religion, 
only,  that  never-failing  friend  of  the  afflicted,  and  time  ;  but 
the  first  wretched  days  nothing  can  soothe  or  shorten." 

Mrs.  Randolph  did  not  return  from  Boston  to  Washington 
until  the  spring  of  1833.  Late  in  the  summer  she  went  to 
Edgehill,  and  remained  in  Virginia  for  more  than  a  year.  In 
January,  1834,  she  lost  her  son  James,  who  died  in  his  twenty- 
seventh  year.  In  the  summer  of  the  same  year  she  was  made 
happy  by  the  arrival  at  Edgehill  of  her  daughter  Mrs.  Coo- 
lidge, with  her  children,  to  whom  their  grandmother  was  pas- 


68         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

sionately  attached.  A  happy  summer  was  thus  spent  with 
her  children  and  grandchildren  around  her  in  the  home  of 
her  beloved  son,  amid  the  scenes  of  the  happiest  as  well  as 
saddest  days  of  her  life.  In  the  fall,  accompanied  by  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  she  returned  to  Washington,  where  she  spent  the 
winter,  and  for  the  last  time  had  all  of  her  daughters  with 
her.  Her  health,  which  had  been  good,  gave  way  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  1835,  when  she  had  an  illness  that  her  physician 
pronounced  the  "  breaking  up  of  her  constitution,"  and  which 
was  so  serious  as  to  call  her  sons  from  Virginia  to  her  bed- 
side. She  rallied,  however,  and,  as  soon  as  her  strength  per- 
mitted, followed  Mrs.  Coolidge  to  Boston. 

She  never  again  stayed  in  Washington  for  any  length  of 
time.  The  few  old  friends  now  living  who  knew  her  there 
still  speak  with  animation  of  the  loveliness  of  her  character, 
the  tranquil  dignity  of  her  manner,  and  the  peculiar  charm 
of  her  conversation.  A  gentleman  who  perhaps  knew  her 
more  intimately  than  any  other  friend  she  had  in  Washington, 
being  asked  not  long  ago  to  describe  her  manner  and  address, 
replied,  "  She  was  dignified,  even  majestic,  in  her  manner,  a 
little  reserved  when  she  first  met  you,  but  soon  melting  into 
cordiality  quickly  fascinated  you  with  the  delights  of  her 
conversation." 

The  summer  of  1835  and  the  winter  following  it  were  spent 
by  Mrs.  Randolph  in  Boston.  On  her  way  to  Virginia  in 
the  spring  she  stopped  in  Philadelphia,  and  sat  to  Sully  for 
her  portrait.  She  arrived  safely  in  Virginia,  and  was  joined 
at  Edgehill  by  all  of  her  daughters  except  Mrs.  Coolidge. 
The  devotion  which  her  children  lavished  on  their  mother 
amounted  almost  to  adoration.  Her  sons,  active,  energetic 
men,  with  the  cares  of  life  often  resting  heavily  upon  them, 
clung  to  her,  even  when  married  and  settled  with  families  of 
their  own,  with  the  same  warmth  of  affection  as  when  they 
had  hung  around  her  knee  in  childhood.  Even  the  blight 
on  their  lives  which  the  loss  of  their  home  was  to  them  was 
not  felt  in  its  full  bitterness  by  this  united  family  as  long  as 
their  mother  was  spared  to  them.     And  as  she  visited  each 


MRS.   THOMAS  MANN  RANDOLPH.  69 

in  turn  they  felt  their  homes  blessed  by  her  presence.  Her 
letters  have  shown  with  what  warmth  and  tenderness  of  affec- 
tion she  returned  this  devotion.  In  a  letter  to  one  of  her 
daughters  she  writes,  while  speaking  of  her  children, — 

"  My  life  is  a  mere  shadow  as  it  regards  myself.  In  you 
alone  I  live  and  am  attached  to  it.  The  useless  pleasures 
which  still  strew  my  path  with  flowers — my  love  for  plants 
and  books — would  be  utterly  heartless  and  dull  but  for  the 
happiness  which  I  derive  from  my  affections ;  these  make  life 
still  dear  to  me,  and  will  make  death  painful." 

The  stay  at  Edgehill  this  summer  was  saddened  to  Mrs. 
Randolph  by  the  thought  of  the  separation  from  her  children 
which  must  soon  follow,  for  her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Trist,  being 
consul  at  Havana,  it  was  decided  that  Mrs.  Trist,  accompanied 
by  two  of  her  sisters,  should  go  thither  in  the  fall.  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph herself  was  to  return  to  Boston  with  her  daughter 
Mary,  to  spend  the  winter.  Her  son  Jefferson  never  saw  her 
leave  his  home  but  with  pain,  nor  did  he  ever  cease  to  urge 
her  to  make  his  house  her  permanent  home.  It  was  with 
peculiar  regret  that  he  saw  the  preparations  made  for  her 
departure  on  this  occasion,  and  so  urgent  was  he  for  her  to 
remain  that  she  half  promised  his  wife  and  himself  to  make 
their  home  hers  on  her  return  from  Boston.  The  day  was 
now  near  when  the  family  party  was  to  break  up  and  the  dif- 
ferent members  of  the  home  circle  be  so  widely  scattered. 
All  dreaded  the  sad  hour  of  parting;  but  how  much  more 
severe  was  the  trial  in  store  for  them  than  any  anticipated ! 
how  bitter  the  cup  that  was  soon  to  be  pressed  to  their  lips  ! 

The  fatigue  caused  by  the  preparations  she  made  for  her 
departure  gave  Mrs.  Randolph  a  severe  headache ;  but,  being 
subject  to  such  attacks,  the  apprehensions  of  the  family  were 
not  excited  about  her.  She  remained  in  bed  for  the  day,  and 
received  every  attention  which  the  tender  and  vigilant  care 
of  her  daughters  could  bestow,  and  the  family  retired  for  the 
night  without  an  anxious  thought  as  to  the  condition  of  the 
loved  being  who  was  the  heart-centre  of  their  home  circle. 
But  at  sunrise  the  next  morning  the  alarm  was  given  that  she 


70 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


had  suddenly  grown  worse,  and  her  children  hastened  to  her 
bedside.  At  an  exclamation  from  her  of  "  My  God,  what  a 
pain  !"  as  she  pressed  her  hand  to  her  head,  her  son  Jefferson 
raised  her  in  his  arms.  The  next  instant  the  long  slanting 
rays  of  the  rising  sun  crept  into  the  room  and  fell  on  her  face 
as,  laying  her  back  on  her  pillow,  the  words,  "  Our  mother  is 
dead,"  fell  from  his  lips. 

She  died  as  she  would  have  wished,  in  sight  of  the  home 
of  her  childhood,  and  in  the  arms  of  the  son  so  dear  to  her 
heart.  Her  death,  which  was  caused  by  apoplexy,  took  place 
on  the  ioth  of  October,  1836.  Two  days  later  she  was  buried 
at  Monticello,  in  that  desecrated  graveyard  on  the  lonely 
mountain-side.  She  sleeps  well,  lying  at  the  head  of  the 
mother  she  lost  so  young,  of  the  father  she  loved  so  devotedly, 
and  of  the  fair  sister  for  whom  she  had  such  tender  affection. 
At  her  head  lies  her  sailor-boy,  whose  dying  request  was, 
"  Bury  me  as  close  to  my  mother  as  I  can  be  placed,"  and 
whose  career  and  success  in  life  are  marked  by  the  words  in- 
scribed on  his  tomb,  of  "  Sailor,  Soldier,  Statesman,  Scholar." 
A  few  yards  off,  a  newly-made  grave  marks  the  last  resting- 
place  of  her  first-born  son,  whose  noble  life  will  not  soon  be 
forgotten. 

The  same  vulgar,  almost  brutal,  mania  of  obtaining  from 
their  graves  relics  of  the  distinguished  dead,  which  has  muti- 
lated and  desecrated  her  father's  tomb,  has  extended  to  the 
modest  stone  which  marked  her  grave.  The  remnant  of  a 
marble  slab  is  all  that  now  indicates  the  resting-place  of  this 
highly-gifted,  unselfish,  tender,  and  true  woman.  But  when 
marble  itself  shall  have  crumbled,  when  the  memory  of  what 
the  world  calls  greatness  shall  have  passed  from  men's  minds, 
and  the  secular  oaks  shall  have  perished  whose  interlocked 
branches  over-arch  the  graves  of  this  father  and  daughter,  the 
touching  story  of  their  singular  devotion  for  each  other,  of 
their  dignified  resignation  in  adversity,  and  of  the  purity  of 
their  lives,  will  form  not  the  least  interesting  page  in  American 
Biography. 

Sarah  N.  Randolph. 


MRS.   PHILIP   SCHUYLER. 


A    SKETCH. 


"The  General's  wife  must  not  be  afraid!" 


"Love  to  sweet  Kitty  Van  Rensselaer,  if  you  see  her." 
This  gentle  message  was  sent  from  New  York,  September 
21,  1753,  by  a  youth  recently  arrived  in  the  regular  packet 
schooner  from  Albany.  The  schooner  lay  at  Ten  Eyck's 
wharf,  and  the  letter  closing  so  tenderly  was  written  in  haste, 
for  the  skipper,  Captain  Wynkoop,  was  to  sail  on  his  return 
voyage  that  afternoon,  and  Billy,  the  negro  boy,  must  hasten 
with  it  to  the  wharf  in  half  an  hour.  The  message  was  sent 
through  "  Brom,"  and  the  writer  was  "  Philip  of  the  Pasture." 
Such  was  the  familiar  name  borne  in  early  life,  among  his 
relatives,  by  Philip  Schuyler,  a  young  man  of  great  intelli- 
gence, spirit,  and  high  personal  character.  The  Schuyler 
family  was  numerous,  and  Philip  John,  to  distinguish  him 
from  others  of  the  same  honorable  name,  was  called  "  Philip 
of  the  Pasture,"  a  farm  belonging  to  his  own  branch  of  the 
family.  His  widowed  mother  was  Cornelia  Van  Cortlandt,  a 
woman  of  superior  character.  At  the  time  of  this  visit  to 
New  York  the  youth  was  about  eighteen,  known  in  society  as 
a  remarkably  pleasant  companion,  tall,  slender,  with  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  decided  features,  and  a  fine  expression  of  counte- 
nance. The  great  ability,  energy,  fortitude,  and  noble  fidelity 
to  duty  which  marked  his  later  career  could  not  then  have 
been  foreseen. 

Precisely  two  years  after  the  visit  to  New  York,  in   1/5 5, 

71 


72         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

this  "  sweet  Kitty"  became  the  wife  of  the  young  man,  as  ap- 
pears from  a  record  in  the  family  Bible : 

"  In  the  year  1755,  on  the  17th  of  September,  was  I,  Philip 
John  Schuyler,  married  [in  the  21st  year,  9th  month,  and  17th 
day  of  his  age]  to  Catharine  Van  Rensselaer,  aged  20  years, 
9  months,  and  27  days.  May  we  live  in  peace  and  to  the 
glory  of  God." 

Catharine  (or  Catalina)  Van  Rensselaer  was  the  daughter  of 
Colonel  Johannes  Van  Rensselaer,  of  Claverack,  a  little  village 
near  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson,  about  forty  miles — then 
a  day's  journey  by  coach  or  on  horseback — from  Albany.  A 
charming  bride  the  young  lady  must  have  been,  very  pleasing 
in  form  and  feature,  with  dark  eyes  and  hair,  and  a  richly 
colored  complexion ;  rather  below  the  medium  height,  but 
particularly  graceful  in  movement,  with  a  sweet  and  winning 
manner,  and  a  low  soft  voice.  The  goodly  company  collected 
to  grace  the  occasion  may  well  be  imagined.  Doubtless  young 
"  Brom,"  at  a  later  day  General  Abraham  Ten  Broeck,  was 
there.  And  chief  among  the  wedding  guests  must  have  been 
the  stately  forms  of  Colonel  Philip  Schuyler  of  the  "  Flats," 
and  his  admirable  wife — "  Madam"  to  the  world  at  large ;  the 
revered  "Aunt"  to  half  the  society  in  Albany, — the  honored 
heads  these  of  the  important  Schuyler  clan,  and  near  relatives 
of  the  groom.  Simple  in  their  daily  life,  our  Dutch  ancestors 
could  be  grand  on  state  occasions,  when  the  best  rooms  in  the 
house  were  opened,  the  sideboards  brilliant  with  plate,  and 
family  portraits  looked  down  upon  powdered  gentlemen  and 
ladies  in  rich  dresses  of  velvet,  satin,  and  brocade,  whose  lace 
ruffles  and  diamond  buckles  were  as  much  a  necessity  as 
sword  and  fan.  And  no  doubt  a  score  of  broad  black  faces, 
smiling,  wondering,  gleeful,  made  up  the  background,  dimly 
haunting  doors  and  windows.  Perchance  a  cry  was  heard 
from  the  street,  "  Bonnie  bride,  bonnie  bride,  throw  out  your 
cookies  !"  when  windows  were  opened  and  showers  of  sweet 
cakes  were  thrown  down  to  the  merry  crowd  of  old  and  young 
gathered  before  the  house.  Such  was  the  kindly  custom  at 
important  weddings  in  Albany  of  the  last  century. 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  73 

Probably  there  was  more  Dutch  than  English  spoken 
among  the  company, — especially  among  the  elders.  The 
marriage  ceremony  was,  no  doubt,  performed  in  Dutch  by 
that  most  excellent  man  Dominie  Frelinghuysen,  pastor  of 
the  Dutch  Reformed  Church  in  Albany.  The  Dominie,  good 
man,  was  in  trouble  about  that  time.  An  English  regiment 
was  quartered  in  the  town,  and  the  officers  got  up  a  play, 
which  they  performed  in  a  barn, — the  first  theatrical  perform- 
ance in  Albany.  This  was  considered  a  terrible  enormity  by 
the  good  Dominie,  whose  sermons  for  a  time  were  chiefly 
devoted  to  bitter  denunciation  of  these  proceedings.  One 
Sunday  the  sermon  was  especially  severe.  On  Monday  morn- 
ing the  Dominie  found  just  within  the  front  door  of  his  gabled 
parsonage  a  staff,  a  pair  of  old  shoes,  a  crust  of  black  bread, 
and  a  silver  dollar ;  an  old  custom,  apparently, — a  broad  hint 
that  the  person  to  whom  these  gifts  were  offered  had  better 
change  his  abode,  a  staff,  provisions,  and  money  for  his  jour- 
ney being  thus  provided.  Not  very  long  after  this  incident 
the  good  Dominie  sailed  for  Holland  and  was  lost  at  sea. 

The  young  groom  was  in  the  army,  and  only  a  few  days 
earlier  he  had  fought  his  first  battle.  The  colonies  were  then 
at  war  with  Canada.  In  June  Philip  Schuyler  had  raised  a 
company  of  volunteers,  and  had  joined  General  Johnson's 
army  at  Lake  George.  After  the  battle  of  September  8,  and 
the  victory  won  by  the  colonial  army,  Captain  Schuyler  was 
sent  to  Albany  to  make  arrangements  for  the  prisoners. 
Then  it  was  that  the  "  sweet  Kitty"  became  his  wife ;  he 
seized  the  moment  to  complete  the  marriage  already  planned. 
The  wedding  was  scarcely  over  when  General  Dieskau  and 
his  aid,  Colonel  Bernier,  both  wounded,  arrived  from  the 
camp,  and  the  young  man  devoted  himself  to  making  arrange- 
ments for  their  comfort :  he  spoke  French  fluently,  a  rare  ac- 
complishment in  those  days,  and  one  which  rendered  his 
society  very  acceptable  to  the  French  officers.  At  the  end 
of  a  week  he  returned  to  the  army,  but  before  leaving  home 
he  commended  the  aged  general,  severely  wounded,  as  an 
especial   charge   to   his   mother  and  his  young  wife.     Very 


74         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

faithfully  were  his  wishes  complied  with.  Both  ladies  seem 
to  have  taken  pleasure  in  doing  all  in  their  power  for  the  com- 
fort of  the  two  wounded  officers.  It  is  charming  to  think  of 
this  gracious  beginning  of  the  married  life  of  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
who  had  scarcely  thrown  aside  her  bridal  dress  when,  at  her 
husband's  request,  she  devoted  herself  to  these  kindly  offices. 
And  this  pleasing  opening  scene  was  but  the  earliest  of  many 
similar  labors  which  marked  every  succeeding  year  for  half  a 
century.  Her  life  was  thoroughly  filled  with  gracious  womanly 
charities, — quiet,  unobtrusive,  and  kindly, — now  in  her  home, 
now  among  the  poor,  and  very  frequently  also  the  same  gen- 
erous spirit  assumed  the  form  of  graceful  hospitalities  to  the 
stranger. 

General  Dieskau  was  very  grateful  for  the  kindness  he  re- 
ceived. His  aid,  Colonel  Bernier,  wrote  to  Captain  Schuyler 
from  Albany, — 

"  One  can  add  nothing  to  the  politeness  of  Madame  your 
mother,  and  Madame  your  wife.  Every  day  there  come  from 
them  to  the  Baron  fruits,  and  other  rare  sweets,  which  are  of 
great  service  to  him.  He  orders  me,  on  this  subject,  to  ex- 
press to  you  all  that  he  owes  to  the  attentions  of  these  ladies. 
If  it  was  permitted  to  me  to  go  out,  I  should  already  have 
been  often  to  present  to  them  his  respects  and  mine." 

Anxious  months  followed  for  the  young  wife.  During  the 
entire  war — and  indeed  throughout  all  those  colonial  wars — 
Albany  was  always  a  central  point;  now  fearing  an  attack 
from  the  French  and  Indians  ;  now  in  a  turmoil,  crowded 
with  English  troops  billeted  on  the  inhabitants  sorely  against 
their  Dutch  will.  Captain  Schuyler  was,  from  the  first,  very 
actively  employed,  engaged  in  important  duties,  and  gaining 
rapidly  a  high  personal  position.  A  high  sense  of  honor, 
strict  integrity,  promptness,  and  a  resolute  discharge  of  duty 
were  already  his  characteristics.  A  year  after  his  marriage 
he  was  on  the  western  frontier  at  Oswego,  with  Colonel  Brad- 
street,  as  assistant  commissary.  Widowed  mother,  and  wife 
were  anxiously  following  from  a  distance  the  young  officer's 
second  campaign.     There  were  often  distressing  intervals  of 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


75 


silence ;  the  rumors  spreading  through  the  town  were  often 
alarming,  often  false.  Then  perhaps  a  wild  figure  would 
slowly  approach  with  noiseless  step,  wrapped  in  a  blanket, 
bareheaded,  with  scalp-lock  and  feather,  with  face  strangely 
painted,  and,  opening  the  skin  pouch  at  his  girdle,  would 
present  to  the  ladies  a  dirty  letter  from  the  far-away  camp. 
The  Indian  runners  passed  very  swiftly  over  the  narrow 
forest  trails,  but  once  within  the  town  they  assumed  their 
usual  quiet,  noiseless  movement.  Or  perhaps  some  soldier, 
with  military  clatter,  riding  express,  would  gallop  to  the  door 
of  the  gabled  house,  and  with  military  salute  deliver  a  packet 
of  letters.  One  incident  of  Captain  Schuyler's  campaign  of 
'56  must  have  warmed  the  hearts  of  mother  and  wife  when  it 
reached  them.  It  was  during  the  skirmish  on  the  Oswego 
River.  Colonel  Bradstreet  was  compelled  to  retire  suddenly 
from  an  island  where  he  had  posted  his  party ;  the  enemy 
were  approaching  in  force ;  there  was  but  one  bateau,  already 
overcrowded  with  troops.  "  For  the  love  of  God  do  not  leave 
me  here  to  perish  alone  by  hunger  and  thirst !"  cried  a  poor 
wounded  Canadian  prisoner.  "  Rather  throw  me  into  the 
river!"  Captain  Schuyler  looked  at  the  wounded  man,  then 
at  the  crowded  bateau  ;  suddenly  throwing  sword  and  over- 
coat to  a  comrade,  he  seized  the  poor  fellow,  bore  him  to  the 
river  in  his  arms,  swam  across  the  deep  channel  with  him,  and 
placed  him  under  the  surgeon's  care.  The  Canadian  lived  to 
express  his  gratitude  twenty  years  later. 

The  death  of  Colonel  Philip  Schuyler,  the  venerable  head 
of  the  house,  marked  the  year  '57  very  sadly  for  his  many 
relatives  and  friends.  His  noble  wife  continued  to  live  at  the 
"  Flats,"  gathering  about  her  the  younger  generation.  Cap- 
tain Schuyler  and  his  wife,  with  their  infant  children,  passed 
much  of  their  time  with  her,  and  many  of  the  better  class  of 
English  officers  were  often  her  guests.  Among  others,  the 
young  Lord  Howe  was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  became  a  great 
favorite  with  the  aged  lady,  who  saw  with  pleasure  an  inti- 
macy growing  up  between  her  nephew  "  Philip  of  the  Pas- 
ture," as  he  was  still  called,  and  the  English  officer.    The  two 


y6        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

generous  young  men  became  friends.  The  army  of  General 
Abercrombie  was  now  gathering  in  force  for  the  invasion  of 
Canada, — a  larger  army  than  had  ever  yet  marched  through 
Albany.  On  the  5th  of  July  they  embarked  proudly  on  the 
clear  waters  of  Lake  George,  bound  for  the  conquest  of 
Ticonderoga, — sixteen  thousand  men  in  nine  hundred  ba- 
teaux, with  one  hundred  and  thirty  whale-boats,  led  by  Lord 
Howe  in  a  large  boat  somewhat  in  advance.  Major  Schuyler 
was  not  with  the  fleet:  his  duties  as  commissary  detained  him 
at  the  head  of  the  lake.  As  he  stood  on  the  strand  watching 
Lord  Howe  proudly  leading  the  fleet,  he  saw  him  for  the  last 
time  in  life.  On  the  6th  a  solitary  boat  came  slowly  up  the 
lake,  bearing  the  body  of  the  gallant  Englishman,  and  the 
arrival  of  the  boat  was  the  first  tidings  Major  Schuyler  re- 
ceived of  the  death  of  that  most  promising  young  officer,  "the 
soul  of  the  army,"  as  he  was  called.  An  express  was  imme- 
diately sent  to  Albany  with  the  sad  news.  As  this  man,  riding 
at  a  gallop  and  bareheaded,  passed  the  "  Flats,"  the  family 
rushed  to  the  doors  to  hear  his  tidings.  "  Lord  Howe  is 
dead  !"  he  cried,  as  he  flew  past.  "  Lord  Howe  is  dead !" 
echoed  long  and  loud  through  the  house,  amid  sobs  and 
lamentations ;  and  the  following  day  the  wail  was  renewed, 
when  a  bateau  was  seen  on  the  river  rowing  slowly  past  the 
house,  bearing  the  body  of  Lord  Howe,  and  Major  Schuyler 
guarding  it.  He  had  asked  permission  to  escort  the  remains 
to  Albany,  brought  his  dead  friend  through  the  forest  on  a 
rude  bier  to  Fort  Edward,  and  thence  down  the  river  in  a 
boat.  The  doors  of  the  Schuyler  vault  were  opened  to  re- 
ceive the  soldier;  and  there  he  lay  for  many  years,  until  he 
was  removed  and  placed  beneath  the  chancel  of  St.  Peter's 
Church.  On  changing  the  wooden  coffin  for  a  leaden  one 
before  placing  him  in  the  church,  it  was  found  that  the  nat- 
urally luxuriant  hair,  which  the  young  officer  had  sternly 
cropped  as  an  example  to  the  army,  had  again  grown  long 
and  fine  in  the  grave. 

Within  a  few  weeks  after  the  ignoble  defeat  at  Ticonderoga, 
in  which  General  Abercrombie's  inefficiency  as  a  commander 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  77 

was  made  so  lamentably  clear,  a  bold  expedition  against  Fron- 
tenac  was  planned  by  Colonel  Bradstreet.  Major  Schuyler 
hastened  in  advance  to  Oswego.  There,  in  the  space  of  three 
weeks,  far  away  in  the  wilderness,  he  built  a  rude  but  strong 
schooner  for  transporting  the  troops  across  Lake  Ontario. 
The  craft  was  named  the  "  Mohawk."  In  August  the  bril- 
liant surprise  of  Frontenac  cheered  the  heart  of  the  colony 
after  the  disgraceful  defeat  at  Ticonderoga.  One  by  one  the 
principal  French  positions  were  beginning  to  fall  before  the 
English  armies. 

So  successful  had  been  the  services  of  Major  Schuyler,  as 
assistant  to  Colonel  Bradstreet  in  the  commissary  department, 
that  he  now  received  the  appointment  of  commissary  general, 
an  office  of  the  very  highest  importance  in  those  colonial 
wars.  The  very  life  of  the  armies  depended  on  his  exertions. 
The  difficulties  to  be  overcome  were  great  and  peculiar.  It 
was  no  easy  task  to  collect  supplies  in  a  country  so  thinly 
peopled  and  of  such  great  extent,  and  when  collected  the 
transportation  was  often  a  tremendous  labor.  Wagons  and 
horses  and  oxen  in  sufficient  numbers  for  the  draught  must 
be  brought  from  a  distance,  and  when  ready  for  movement  a 
wilderness  lay  before  them  ;  roads  must  be  cut  through  the 
forest,  bridges  must  be  thrown  over  streams.  Probably  no 
other  man  in  the  country  could  have  discharged  these  duties 
so  well  as  Major  Schuyler,  prompt,  methodical,  resolute,  and 
strictly  upright  as  he  was  acknowledged  to  be. 

While  these  public  duties  frequently  carried  Major  Schuyler 
to  a  distance  from  the  home  he  loved  so  well,  Mrs.  Schuyler 
was  gradually  fitting  herself  by  practical  experience  for  taking 
charge  of  her  husband's  private  affairs.  The  young  lady  so 
gentle  in  manner  was  endowed  with  great  latent  energy,  which 
was  now  aroused,  and,  guided  by  natural  good  sense,  rendered 
her  assistance  very  valuable.  Her  life  soon  became  one  of 
active  duty  and  constant  care.  Her  whole  character  was  a 
singular  union  of  sweetness  and  strength,  and  she  was  re- 
warded for  her  exertions  not  only  by  her  husband's  full  affec- 
tion, but  also  by  his  confidence  and  respect.     His  private 


7 8         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

affairs  were  frequently  intrusted  to   her  discretion  while  he 
was  absent  on  public  business. 

In  176 1,  Major  Schuyler  went  to  England  on  business  of 
importance  for  Colonel  Bradstreet,  whose  health  prevented 
his  crossing  the  ocean.  It  was  necessary  to  lay  the  colonel's 
accounts  as  quartermaster-general  before  the  British  govern- 
ment. Major  Schuyler  left  his  family  in  Albany  early  in  the 
winter,  and  in  February  sailed  for  England.  Wife  and  friends 
were  very  anxious  for  his  safety,  as  the  ocean  was  then  swarm- 
ing with  French  men-of-war  and  privateers.  The  voyage  was 
eventful.  But  it  was  not  until  the  middle  of  May  that  Mrs. 
Schuyler  heard  the  details.  On  the  14th  of  May  the  regular 
packet  from  England  arrived  at  New  York,  and  Colonel  De 
Lancey,  a  friend  of  the  family,  immediately  forwarded  the 
letters  to  Mrs.  Schuyler  by  express.  Great  was  the  wife's 
joy  and  thankfulness  on  receiving  them,  and  eventful  was  the 
story  they  told.  Major  Schuyler,  from  the  moment  of  sailing, 
became  interested  in  nautical  matters,  especially  in  the  navi- 
gation, which  he  studied  carefully.  The  captain  died.  The 
passengers  and  crew  united  to  request  him  to  take  command 
of  the  vessel,  which  he  did.  They  met  a  dismantled  slaver  in 
distress,  her  water  and  provisions  exhausted.  Mr.  Schuyler 
transferred  the  crew  to  his  own  vessel,  and  ordered  the  hatches 
of  the  slaver  to  be  opened  to  give  the  two  hundred  poor  crea- 
tures a  chance  for  life.  Soon  after  he  spoke  a  vessel  laden 
with  horses,  bound  to  the  West  Indies.  He  urged  the  cap- 
tain to  look  up  the  slaver  and  feed  the  poor  negroes  on  horse- 
flesh. A  few  days  later  Mr.  Schuyler's  vessel  met  a  French 
privateer,  and  was  captured.  They  were  not  long,  however, 
under  the  white  flag  of  France.  An  English  frigate  hove  in 
sight,  when  Mr.  Schuyler's  ship  and  his  captor  were  both 
seized  and  taken  to  London.  Such  were  the  tidings  Mrs. 
Schuyler  found  in  her  first  package  of  letters.  Rather  later 
came  others  more  agreeable  in  character.  Colonel  Bradstreet's 
accounts  had  been  laid  before  a  committee  of  Parliament,  and 
Major  Schuyler  had  been  highly  complimented  on  their  accu- 
racy and  neatness.     He  was  indeed  a  very  skillful  accountant. 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  yg 

It  was  said  there  was  but  one  man  in  England  who  could  com- 
pute more  rapidly  than  himself.  Of  course  the  wonderful 
sights  of  London,  the  Tower,  Westminster  Abbey,  St.  Paul's, 
were  visited.  But  one  of  the  marvels  which  especially  inter- 
ested him  was  the  canal  of  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater,  the  first 
work  of  the  kind  in  England,  then  recently  completed.  He 
examined  this  canal  closely,  and  his  active  mind  almost  im- 
mediately seized  the  idea  of  carrying  out  similar  works  in  his 
native  colony.  He  would  thus  seem  to  have  been  the  first 
American  to  conceive  the  germ  of  the  important  canal  system 
of  our  country.  In  the  autumn  he  returned  to  his  happy 
fireside. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  had  been  very  much  occupied  during  his 
absence  in  building  a  new  town-house  in  the  southern  suburbs 
of  Albany, — a  brick  building  of  ample  size,  surrounded  by 
extensive  grounds  reaching  to  the  river.  The  family  home 
of  Major  Schuyler  at  the  time  of  his  marriage  was  an  old 
building  of  large  size,  highly  ornamented  in  the  Dutch  style, 
with  gabled  roofs  and  small  windows,  which  stood  very  nearly 
on  the  ground  now  occupied  by  the  city  hall  at  Albany.  The 
new  home  was  built  according  to  modern  ideas ;  and  on  the 
return  of  Major  Schuyler  the  household  fires  were  lighted  on 
the  new  hearthstone, — brilliant,  generous  fires  of  hickory 
wood,  no  doubt. 

The  wives  and  mothers  of  Albany  were  now  relieved  from 
the  terrible  anxieties  by  which  they  had  been  haunted  for 
many  a  long  year.  Oswego,  Niagara,  Quebec,  and  Montreal 
had  fallen, — the  English  flag  waved  over  those  posts.  All 
fears  of  savage  incursions,  of  French  and  Indian  bands,  had 
ceased.  It  was  a  period  of  relief.  Mrs.  Schuyler  probably 
thought  that  never  again  would  her  husband  be  called  to 
severe  duties  at  the  frontier  posts  on  Lake  George  and  Lake 
Champlain.  If  such  was  her  belief  it  was  but  a  delusive 
dream.  The  most  arduous  duties  of  her  husband  and  his 
severest  trials  were  connected  at  a  later  day  with  the  same 
region  of  country.  But  happily  for  her  this  fact  could  not 
have  been  foreseen.     Quiet  days  of  peaceful  occupation  fol- 


8o         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

lowed.  At  no  period  was  the  life  of  the  young  couple  a  slug- 
gish one.  Both  husband  and  wife  were  too  healthful,  too 
generous  by  nature,  to  be  satisfied  with  mere  self-indulgence, 
and  they  worked  in  harmony.  They  were  one  in  spirit.  In 
every  community  living  essentially  under  Christian  influences 
the  happy  marriage  is  the  rule,  the  unhappy  marriage  the  ex- 
ception. The  tone  of  family  life  at  Albany  was  sound  and 
healthful.  But  the  attachment  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Schuyler 
would  appear  to  have  been  peculiarly  strong ;  they  were  truly 
one  in  feeling  and  in  action.  And  now  the  thoughts  of  both 
were  much  occupied  with  improvements  going  on  upon  a  valu- 
able estate  which  Major  Schuyler  had  inherited  in  his  boy- 
hood from  an  uncle  of  the  same  name.  This  estate  lay  at 
Saratoga.  The  uncle,  Colonel  Philip  Schuyler,  had  built 
some  thirty  years  earlier  a  substantial  brick  house,  pierced 
with  loop-holes  for  defense,  and  surrounded  by  valuable 
mills  and  a  little  hamlet.  One  luckless  night  in  the  "  Old 
French  War"  of  1745,  a  marauding  band,  Indians  and  French, 
under  Marin,  burned  the  house,  killed  the  owner,  destroyed 
the  little  colony,  sang  "  Te  Deum"  on  the  ruins,  and  went 
their  way  to  Canada.  It  was  upon  this  valuable  property  that 
improvements  on  an  extensive  scale  were  now  going  on.  A 
pleasant  country-house  of  ample  size  was  built.  The  clearings 
were  enlarged.  New  mills  were  added  to  those  already  built. 
The  house  stood  near  the  banks  of  a  brawling  stream,  called 
the  Fishkill,  flowing  out  of  Saratoga  Lake,  and  the  Hudson 
ran  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  As  soon  as  the  dwelling  was 
completed  the  family  came  to  Saratoga,  and  it  continued  their 
home  during  eight  or  nine  months  of  every  year.  The  mills 
on  this  estate  were  of  peculiar  interest  and  value,  and  among 
them  was  the  first  flax-mill  worked  in  America.  There  were 
large  fields  of  flax  and  hemp  cultivated  under  Major  Schuy- 
ler's supervision ;  and  no  doubt  a  portion  of  the  flax  was  spun 
in  Mrs.  Schuyler's  household,  not  only  by  her  handmaids  in 
the  workroom,  but  also  by  herself  and  her  daughters  in  her 
drawing-room  at  Albany.  A  pretty  little  spinning-wheel  was 
in  those  days  as  much  a  lady's  companion  as  the  tambour- 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  8 1 

frame.  A  great  deal  of  the  finest  thread  used  in  families  was 
spun  in  this  way  for  choice  pieces  of  table  and  household 
linen.  Pretty  table-cloths  and  napkins  spun  by  the  ladies  of 
those  days  are  still  preserved  in  many  families.  Even  good 
Queen  Charlotte  and  the  princesses  her  daughters  amused 
themselves  with  turning  their  dainty  little  wheels  in  the  draw- 
ing-rooms of  Windsor  and  Kew.  To-day  the  spinning-wheel 
has  vanished  from  the  land ;  though  perchance  the  ghost  of 
one  may  be  found  in  some  old  farm-house  garret.  At  Sara- 
toga in  the  good  olden  time  "Adam  delved  and  Eve  span." 
The  master  of  the  house  was  busily  at  work  making  inroads 
upon  the  ancient  forest,  which  then  covered  all  the  hills  in 
sight,  planning  new  fields  of  wheat  and  maize,  new  meadows 
for  his  large  herds  and  flocks.  An  English  friend  promised 
to  send  him  the  model  of  a  machine  invented  in  Switzerland 
for  pulling  up  trees  by  the  roots  very  expeditiously.  Was 
this  the  origin  of  our  stump-extractor  of  the  present  day  ? 

In  the  autumn  the  family  returned  to  the  town-house, 
where  the  winter  months  were  usually  passed.  Many  were 
the  guests  of  interest  who,  in  succession,  shared  the  generous 
hospitality  of  the  Albany  home.  Colonel  Bradstreet,  now 
very  infirm,  became  an  inmate,  one  of  the  home  circle,  sharing 
in  the  gentle  kindness  of  Mrs.  Schuyler.  A  flock  of  children 
were  gathering  in  the  nursery,  prattling  Dutch,  no  doubt, 
with  their  negro  nurses,  sung  to  sleep  by  Dutch  lullabies, 
calling  the  blossoms  gathered  in  the  grass  by  names  known  in 
the  meadows  of  Holland,  singing  Dutch  hymns  on  Sunday, 
and  all  eager  for  Santa  Claus  at  Christmas-tide.  There  was  a 
little  chilcTs  hymn  sung  by  the  Albany  children  in  those  days 
in  especial  honor  of  Santa  Claus,  "Gocdt  heyligh  man.'"  There 
were  troops  of  blacks  of  all  ages,  from  the  dignified  white- 
headed  patriarchs  to  the  toddling  round-faced  little  ones, — 
most  fascinating  imps,  as  they  always  are, — all  considering 
themselves  as  life-long  members  of  the  household,  and  strongly 
attached  to  the  family,  whose  interests  they  made  their  own, 
sharing  heartily  all  joys  and  sorrows  in  common.  We  have 
not  a  word  to  say  in  behalf  of  slavery  in  the  abstract ;  but 

6 


82         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

probably  the  evil  never  took  a  happier  form  than  among  the 
old  Dutch  colonial  families,  where  there  was  so  much  kindli- 
ness of  feeling  on  both  sides.  The  slaves  were  never  very 
numerous,  and  their  names  were  usually  recorded  in  the 
family  Bible  with  those  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the 
house.  Over-indulgence  was  the  common  rule  with  the 
masters.  But  Mrs.  Schuyler's  very  large  household  are  said 
to  have  been  remarkably  well  trained  for  their  different  duties. 
With  the  gentle  manner  and  sweet  voice  which  gave  an 
especial  charm  to  her  presence,  she  could  also  be  firm,  and 
never  failed  in  energy.  Like  most  ladies  of  the  Dutch  fami- 
lies, she  was  a  thoroughly  good  housekeeper :  diligent, 
prudent,  wise,  there  was  harmony  in  all  her  arrangements. 
The  style  of  living  was  generous,  her  table  handsomely 
served,  the  savory  dishes  rich  combinations  of  meats  and 
sweets  and  spices.  Many  an  admirable  recipe  might  be  found 
scrawled  in  very  uncouth  letters,  and  in  Dutch  words  often 
misspelt,  no  doubt,  in  the  old  Albany  housekeepers'  books. 
The  education  of  the  ladies  was  simple  and  practical.  They 
had  few  accomplishments,  and  no  learning  whatever.  They 
were  generally  taught  to  read  and  write  and  cast  up  simple 
accounts  by  their  mothers.  There  were  no  schools  in  Albany, 
not  even  for  boys,  in  the  first  half  of  the  last  century.  The 
daughters  of  the  house  learned  to  sew,  to  embroider,  to  spin, 
as  a  matter  of  course ;  they  were  natural,  modest,  merry,  and 
often  very  attractive,  making  excellent  wives  and  mothers  ; 
and  those  who  were  in  prominent  positions  knew  how  to  do 
the  honors  of  their  house  with  simple  courtesy.  Among 
those  ladies  not  one  was  more  beloved,  more  respected,  than 
Mrs.  Philip  Schuyler;  her  thoroughly  womanly  nature  won 
for  her  the  regard  and  affection  of  all  who  knew  her.  It  was 
said  of  her  that  she  carried  with  her  the  glow  of  sunshine. 

The  new  house  at  Albany  became  a  centre  of  the  most  gen- 
erous hospitality,  a  hospitality  which  included  not  only  the 
very  large  circle  of  old  friends  and  relatives,  not  only  the 
most  important  people  in  the  colony,  but  also  the  poor  and 
afflicted.     Old  and  infirm,  widow  and  orphan,  lame  and  blind, 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  83 

Dutch,  negro,  Indian, — all  these  were  often  seen  coming  over 
the  well-trodden  path  for  alms,  receiving  food,  clothing,  med- 
icines, for  which  they  gave  a  blessing  in  Dutch  or  Mohawk. 
A  kindly  hand  was  always  held  out  to  them  by  the  lady  of 
the  house,  with  a  gentle  word  softly  spoken,  a  pleasant  smile, 
to  cheer  the  sad  heart.  Charities  in  this  form,  the  dole  from 
the  Christian  fireside,  were  absolutely  necessary  in  those  days. 
There  were  none  of  the  many  societies  for  the  relief  of  dif- 
ferent classes  of  sufferers  which  are  to  be  found  in  every  town 
at  the  present  hour. 

Colonel  Schuyler — he  was  now  in  command  of  a  regiment 
raised  by  his  own  exertions — delighted  in  these  hospitalities, 
and  in  these  charities  also.  He  was  very  liberal  and  helpful 
to  the  poor.  Among  the  frequent  guests  from  New  York 
were  the  different  governors  and  their  families  in  succession. 
Sir  Henry  and  Lady  Moore  came  in  %j ;  and  a  little  later  a 
very  different  company  appeared.  A  band  of  nine  of  the 
principal  Cherokee  warriors,  headed  by  their  chief  Attakul- 
lakulla,  came  into  the  Iroquois  country  to  sue  for  peace. 
There  had  been  war  between  the  Six  Nations  and  the  Chero- 
kees,  and  the  last  had  been  worsted.  Colonel  Schuyler  met 
the  rude  embassy  as  they  landed  from  the  sloop,  and  con- 
ducted them  to  his  house.  It  seems  a  strange  wild  company 
to  have  filled  Mrs.  Schuyler's  drawing-room ;  but  Indian  war- 
riors from  many  tribes  were  frequent  guests  under  the  Schuy- 
ler roof.  These  wild  visitors  from  a  far-away  region  soon 
moved  westward  and  accomplished  their  errand:  the  calumet 
of  peace  was  smoked  and  the  war-hatchet  buried  at  Onondaga. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  was  now  preparing  for  a  temporary  removal 
to  New  York.  Colonel  Schuyler  was  elected  a  delegate  to 
the  Colonial  Assembly.  The  parents  wished  to  carry  their 
flock  of  children  with  them  ;  but  how  to  dispose  of  them  was 
the  question.  There  were  apparently  no  boarding-schools  in 
New  York  at  that  day.  Negotiations  were  opened  with  a  good 
widow  lady  living  in  Hanover  Square,  with  whom  it  was  pro- 
posed to  place  two  of  the  children.  Fifty  pounds  a  year,  two 
pounds  of  tea,  one  loaf  of  sugar,  for  each  child,  were  the 


84        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

terms   demanded  ;    their  stockings  and   clothes   were  to  be 
mended,  "  but  new  work  must  be  paid  for  the  making." 

The  Assembly  of  which  Colonel  Schuyler  was  a  member 
consisted  of  twenty-nine  gentlemen,  all  men  of  character. 
Fourteen  bore  Dutch  or  Huguenot  names,  and  probably  there 
were  not  more  than  one  or  two  of  unmixed  English  lineage. 

The  great  political  storm  was  arising.  With  manly  de- 
cision Colonel  Schuyler  took  his  stand  on  the  side  of  his 
native  country.  The  oppressive  measures  of  the  Crown  and 
Parliament  of  England  aroused  his  honest  indignation.  Re- 
sistance to  those  measures  marked  his  course  in  the  Assem- 
bly. From  the  first  he  took  a  high  personal  position  in  the 
House,  although  one  of  its  youngest  members,  only  thirty- 
five.  Several  important  measures  proposed  by  him  were  car- 
ried. It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  anxiety  which  pervaded  every 
American  home  in  those  years.  Wives  and  mothers  were 
all  sad  at  heart.  Those  whom  they  loved  most  dearly  were 
about  to  throw  themselves  into  a  struggle  terrible  in  its  dan- 
gers and  its  magnitude,  a  handful  of  colonists  in  arms  against 
the  mother-country,  against  the  nation  which  at  that  date  was 
the  most  powerful  in  Europe.  Anxious  days  were  succeeded 
by  sleepless  nights  or  troubled  dreams.  Peace  and  repose 
were  banished  from  the  fireside.  Kindred  were  divided  in 
opinion  and  in  action.  Bitter  denunciation  and  violent  meas- 
ures prevailed  in  every  part  of  the  country.  The  wife  of 
Colonel  Schuyler,  beloved  and  admired  among  her  friends 
for  the  sweet  womanly  gentleness  of  her  nature  and  manner, 
showed  herself  fearless  and  firm  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Her 
nature  was  too  healthful  to  be  cowardly.  Modestly  and  quietly, 
but  yet  firmly  and  bravely,  she  stood  at  her  husband's  side 
throughout  the  great  struggle  of  twenty  years'  duration  ;  yes, 
twenty  years.  The  war  of  Independence  began  with  the  first 
meeting  of  the  Privy  Council  of  England  in  which  it  was  re- 
solved to  tax  the  colonies  without  their  consent.  It  was 
England  herself  which  thus  called  the  colonists  to  arms. 
"  Colonies  exist  only  for  the  benefit  of  the  mother-country," 
was  the  assertion  of  a  leading  statesman  of  the  day.     Those 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  85 

words  contain  the  key  to  the  whole  question.  That  opinion, 
and  the  feeling  connected  with  it,  cherished  alike  by  Crown 
and  Parliament,  set  the  armies  of  England  in  motion  and 
drove  the  colonists  to  arms.  Brave,  hardy,  resolute,  as  they 
had  proved  themselves  from  their  first  landing  on  the  West- 
ern Continent,  the  American  colonists  were  not  the  race  to 
submit  tamely  to  unreason,  oppression,  and  insult  so  gross. 
Gradually  the  crisis  drew  near;  and  very  gradually  the  colo- 
nists themselves,  as  they  were  compelled  by  their  opponents 
to  take  one  important  step  after  another  in  the  path  of  resist- 
ance, awoke  to  the  full  importance  of  the  struggle.  There 
had  been  no  secret  conspiracy  on  the  part  of  the  Americans ; 
there  was  no  treachery  lurking  in  their  hearts ;  there  was 
nothing  of  blind  prejudice,  nothing  of  fanatical  violence,  in 
their  tone  or  action.  They  were  indeed  very  slow  to  believe 
that  separation  and  independence  must  ere  long  become  a 
necessity.  And  it  was  this  simple,  manly  honesty  of  purpose 
which  gave  the  full  force  of  moral  strength  to  the  war  of 
Independence. 

Many  of  Colonel  Schuyler's  friends  were  warm  loyalists. 
His  opinions  on  all  the  unjust  measures  of  the  mother-coun- 
try were  well  known  and  always  frankly  uttered.  He  never 
faltered  in  his  course.  But  his  kindliness  of  nature  and  his 
gentlemanly  manner  prevented  all  needless  disturbance,  and 
in  social  life  he  still  continued  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
leaders  of  the  Tory  party.  Governor  Moore  and  Governor 
Tryon  were  frequently  his  guests  during  that  period.  In 
1773  Mrs.  Schuyler  was  busy  preparing  for  the  reception  of 
the  governor  and  his  family,  while  her  husband  was  looking 
out  for  "  a  good  vessel"  in  which  "  the  voyage"  from  New 
York  to  Albany  could  be  made  with  comfort.  Mrs.  Tryon 
remained  a  month  with  Mrs.  Schuyler,  passing  part  of  the 
time  in  what  may  be  called  the  gay  world  of  Albany,  in  which 
grand  dinners  and  suppers  and  other  entertainments  prevailed, 
where  the  stately  figures  of  the  ladies,  with  powdered  heads, 
high  heels,  and  long  trains  of  brocade  and  satin,  moved  about 
the  handsome  rooms ;  and  somewhat  later  they  were  in  the 


86         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

pastoral  wilds  of  Saratoga,  robed  in  linen  negliges  and  high 
muslin  caps  over  their  powdered  locks,  peeping  into  the 
flax-mill  and  the  saw-mills,  gathering  wild  strawberries  in  the 
meadows  among  great  herds  of  cattle,  or  in  the  evening  sit- 
ting on  the  stoop  watching  the  humming-birds,  or  listening  to 
the  wren  and  the  oriole,  or  perchance  to  the  howling  of  the 
wolf  in  the  nearest  forest.  The  gentlemen  were  away  in  the 
Mohawk  country,  holding  "  talks"  with  Sir  William  Johnson 
and  the  Indian  chiefs. 

From  early  youth  Philip  Schuyler  had  been  a  frequent  suf- 
ferer from  severe  attacks  of  hereditary  gout,  the  first  seizure 
occurring  when  he  was  a  lad  of  fourteen.  And  now,  during 
the  year  1774,  the  period  of  the  tea-troubles,  he  was  much  too 
ill  to  attend  to  his  duties  in  the  Assembly.  He  was  a  close 
prisoner  at  his  house  at  Saratoga,  a  great  sufferer,  under  the 
loving  care  of  his  wife  as  nurse,  for  several  months.  Like 
all  good,  natural  women,  Mrs.  Schuyler  was  often  engaged 
in  the  office  of  nurse  to  those  she  loved, — her  gentle  manner, 
quiet  movement,  and  sweet  voice  adding  peculiar  charm  to 
her  services  of  this  kind.  Her  flock  of  children  was  large, 
fourteen  in  all,  and  of  these  six  died  in  childhood.  Six  times 
in  succession  the  tender  mother  was  called  to  bow  over  the 
death-beds  of  the  little  ones  so  precious  to  her.  Of  sorrows 
like  these  the  world  takes  no  note;  but  in  the  record  of  a 
mother's  life  they  must  assuredly  find  a  place.  These  are 
heart  wounds  which  open  and  bleed  at  many  a  touch  long 
years  later.  The  memories  of  those  lost  little  ones  are  always 
precious  to  the  good  mother.  And  the  stern  soldier-father's 
heart  was  also  very  sore  at  such  times.  His  family  attach- 
ments were  very  strong.  When  absent  he  often  wrote  of  his 
children  in  the  most  endearing  terms.  Six  times  in  succession 
the  doors  of  the  Schuyler  vault  were  opened  to  receive  these 
little  children,  who  were  placed  beside  their  father's  friend 
Lord  Howe. 

The  first  Colonial  Congress  was  now  about  to  assemble.  Col- 
onel Schuyler  was  strongly  urged  to  accept  the  nomination 
as  delegate  from    New  York.     No  man  in  the  country  had 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  87 

thrown  himself  more  frankly  into  the  cause  of  the  colonies. 
But  he  was  much  too  ill  at  that  time  for  duties  so  important. 
The  Congress  met,  and  those  two  important  measures  were 
passed, — the  American  Association  for  Non-Intercourse  with 
the  Mother  Country,  and  the  Declaration  of  Rights. 

With  every  month  the  country  became  more  agitated, 
more  determined  upon  resistance.  A  convention  of  the 
colony  was  held  in  New  York  in  the  spring  of  1775,  com- 
posed of  members  chosen  by  different  modes  of  election,  and, 
Colonel  Schuyler's  health  having  improved,  he  took  his  seat 
at  the  head  of  the  delegation  from  Albany.  They  assembled 
on  the  20th  of  April.  They  remained  in  session  only  three 
days.  Blood  had  already  been  shed  at  Lexington  the  day  be- 
fore this  first  independent  convention  met  in  New  York.  But 
no  news  of  the  important  struggle  had  reached  them.  Colonel 
Schuyler  returned  to  Albany,  and  from  thence  went  to  Sara- 
toga; and  it  was  not  until  late  on  the  evening  of  the  28th  that 
the  grave  tidings  reached  him.  His  resolution  had  long  since 
been  taken  :  that  evening  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  For  my  own 
part,  much  as  I  love  peace,  much  as  I  love  domestic  happi- 
ness and  repose,  and  desire  to  see  my  countrymen  enjoying 
the  blessings  flowing  from  undisturbed  industry,  I  would 
rather  see  all  these  scattered  to  the  winds  for  a  time,  and  the 
sword  of  desolation  go  over  the  land,  than  to  recede  one  line 
from  the  just  and  righteous  position  we  have  taken  as  free- 
born  subjects  of  Great  Britain.  War  has  now  actually  begun. 
I  care  not  what  others  may  do :  as  for  me  and  my  house,  we 
will  serve  our  country." 

Most  faithfully  was  that  declaration  carried  out,  through 
the  long  and  varied  trials  of  the  great  struggle.  The  follow- 
ing day  was  Sunday.  Colonel  Schuyler  was  in  his  usual  place 
with  his  family,  in  the  little  chapel  near  his  house.  The  ser- 
vice over,  the  people  gather  about  him.  "  He  was  the  oracle 
of  our  neighborhood,"  says  an  eye-witness.  "  We  looked  up 
to  him  with  feelings  of  respect  and  affection.  His  popularity 
was  unbounded ;  his  views  on  all  subjects  were  considered 
sound,  and  his  anticipations  almost  prophetic.     On  this  occa- 


88         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

sion  he  expressed  his  belief  that  a  crisis  had  arrived  which 
must  forever  separate  us  from  the  parent  state." 

The  whole  country  now  flew  to  arms.  The  battle  of  Bun- 
ker Hill  was  fought.  Congress  voted  to  raise  an  army  of 
twenty  thousand  men.  Colonel  Washington  was  appointed 
commander-in-chief,  and  of  four  major-generals,  Colonel 
Schuyler  was  one.  He  was  placed  in  chief  command  of  the 
Northern  Department.  The  colonial  troops  of  New  York 
amounted  at  that  date  to  rather  less  than  three  thousand  men. 
General  Schuyler  on  his  return  to  Albany  as  commander  of 
that  department  received  a  formal  military  and  civic  reception: 
he  was  escorted  to  his  house  with  full  ceremonies,  and  the 
town  was  illuminated  in  the  evening. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  must  have  looked  at  those  lights  with  min- 
gled feelings  of  pride  and  anxiety.  And  how  anxiously  the 
devoted  wife  must  now  have  listened  to  every  rumor,  every 
convention,  every  incident  connected  with  the  war-cloud 
gathering  so  darkly  over  her  home  !  Assuredly  she  gave 
little  thought  to  any  personal  risks  or  trials  of  her  own.  Good 
women  are  always  self-forgetful  in  the  hour  of  danger, — they 
may  be  even  brave  and  resolute  in  spirit,  ready  to  face  danger 
fearlessly  in  the  hour  of  peril, — but  for  those  they  love  they 
are  sure  to  be  full  of  alarms  and  anxieties,  even  to  weakness. 
The  good  wife  knew  but  too  well  the  risks  of  the  great 
struggle  in  which  her  husband  now  held  a  position  so  impor- 
tant. Still,  it  is  said  that  she  never  attempted  to  hold  him  back 
from  duty.  She  gave  him  her  full  sympathy,  and  was  ever 
ready  with  the  loving  gentleness  of  her  nature  to  cheer  and 
support  him  in  the  hour  of  trial.  And  often  she  was  of 
great  practical  assistance  by  attending  to  many  details  of  his 
private  affairs  while  he  was  absent  on  urgent  public  duties. 

Journeys,  conferences  with  military  men,  Indian  councils, 
now  followed  each  other  with  increasing  rapidity.  There  was 
difficulty  and  embarrassment  at  every  step.  But  every  diffi- 
culty was  faced  by  the  general  with  energy  and  resolution. 
Reform  was  needed  everywhere.  The  deficiencies  in  the  sup- 
plies were  inconceivable.    "  No  arms,  no  powder,  no  blankets." 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


89 


— "  The  troops  can  be  of  no  service  to  you,"  wrote  the  authori- 
ties of  the  colonies,  with  remarkable  frankness  :  "  they  have 
no  arms,  clothes,  blankets,  or  ammunition, — officers  no  com- 
missions,— treasury  no  money."  And  this  was  the  force,  or 
rather  the  weakness,  with  which  General  Schuyler  was  ex- 
pected to  conquer  Canada ! 

In  August  he  returned  from  the  frontier  posts  to  hold  what 
proved  to  be  the  last  Indian  council  ever  held  in  Albany. 
He  was  always  a  favorite  with  the  red  men ;  his  family  had 
been  their  fast  friends  for  several  generations,  and  he  had  been 
personally  adopted  into  the  Mohawk  tribe  by  the  title  of 
"  Tho-rah-Thau-yea-da-Kayer."  The  Indians  were  asked  to 
remain  neutral.  The  missionary,  Mr.  Kirkland,  was  the  inter- 
preter. The  result  of  the  council  was  satisfactory,  as  the 
Indians  had  already  decided  that  their  true  course  was  neu- 
trality. "  This  is  a  quarrel  between  father  and  son  :  we  will 
stand  aside  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  it."  Such  was  their 
determination  at  the  time.  At  a  later  day  Sir  John  Johnson 
induced  them  to  take  up  arms  against  the  colonists. 

Preparations  for  the  campaign  in  Canada  were  now  pushed 
forward  by  General  Schuyler,  in  spite  of  severe  illness.  He 
was  reduced  to  a  skeleton  by  gout,  fever,  and  rheumatism. 
The  tremendous  difficulties  constantly  arising  in  his  path 
must  have  greatly  aggravated  his  illness.  "  I  hope  in  a  little 
while,"  he  said,  "  to  make  all  obstacles  vanish.  Much  maybe 
done  when  people  set  to  work  with  hand  and  heart."  But 
deficiencies  in  stores  and  equipments  were  not  the  worst  evils  : 
jealousies  personal  and  political  did  infinite  harm ;  clash- 
ing authorities,  the  Congress  on  one  side,  provincial  Assem- 
blies on  the  other,  aggravated  the  difficulties.  Insubor- 
dination was  rife.  "  Connecticut  privates  are  all  generals," 
wrote  General  Montgomery.  Neglect,  dishonesty,  peculation, 
were  only  too  frequent.  "  If  I  had  not  arrived  here  on  the 
day  I  did,  as  sure  as  God  lives,  the  army  would  have  been 
starved."  "  If  Job  had  been  a  general  in  my  situation,  his 
memory  would  not  have  been  so  famous  for  patience."  Ill 
health  compelled  him  to  return  home  to  Albany;  the  sooth- 


9o         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

ing,  tender  care  of  his  wife  had  never  been  more  needed. 
His  headquarters  were  then  fixed  at  Albany;  and  in  spite  of 
severe  illness  he  continued  his  indefatigable  labors,  taking 
upon  himself  the  duties  of  commissary,  quartermaster, 
muster-master,  and  hospital  superintendent.  Congress  did 
not  spare  him.  He  was  ordered  to  suppress  a  threatened 
rising  of  the  Tories  and  Indians  in  Tryon  county, — to  have 
explorations  of  the  St.  Lawrence  carefully  made, — to  repair 
Ticonderoga, — to  build  a  fleet  of  bateaux  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain, — to  send  supplies  of  timber  for  ship-building  at  Pough- 
keepsie.  All  these  different  labors  he  carried  on  at  the 
same  time.  The  state  of  his  health  caused  the  deepest  anxi- 
ety to  his  wife  and  children  ;  they  saw  him  suffering  acutely 
while  at  the  same  time  he  was  laboring  under  a  combination 
of  duties  likely  to  exhaust  a  man  in  robust  health.  All  that 
tender,  loving  services  could  do  to  alleviate  his  sufferings,  to 
soothe  and  cheer  him,  never  failed  while  he  was  in  his  own 
home.  But  he  was  constantly  called  to  a  distance  by  the 
important  duties  of  his  department.  His  health  was  indeed 
at  this  time  the  cause  of  much  public  anxiety.  Military  men 
of  the  highest  rank  were  constantly  urging  him  to  prudence. 
Prayers,  both  public  and  private,  were  offered  for  the  preser- 
vation of  his  life.  The  President  of  Congress  wrote,  "  I  am 
extremely  sorry  to  find  you  recover  health  so  slowly.  The 
Congress  have  the  most  anxious  concern  for  you."  It  is 
indeed  remarkable  that  a  public  man  suffering  so  frequently 
from  acute  forms  of  disease  should  have  been  able  to  accom- 
plish such  a  vast  amount  of  labor,  physical  and  mental,  as  fell 
upon  General  Schuyler. 

In  one  of  his  many  expeditions  of  inspection  to  the  northern 
posts  he  was  taken  seriously  ill  at  Ticonderoga  with  gout  and 
malarial  fever.  Mrs.  Schuyler  hastened  to  his  bedside.  The 
journey  was  one  of  exposure  and  fatigue  far  beyond  what  is 
now  felt  in  crossing  the  continent  from  the  banks  of  the  Hud- 
son to  the  Pacific.  Leaving  her  children  with  a  sad  heart,  we 
may  be  sure,  and  well  laden  with  all  that  could  add  to  her 
husband's  comfort,  the  anxious  wife  set  out  on  the  first  day's 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  9! 

journey,  accompanied  by  an  aide-de-camp  sent  by  the  general 
to  escort  her.     Mrs.  Schuyler  has  left  no  record  of  her  pilgrim- 
age, but  from  other  sources  we  gather  many  details  which  tell 
the  story  for  her.     The  first  stage  from  Albany  was  Saratoga, 
the  wretched  condition  of  the  roads  rendering  a  halt  for  rest 
at  the  country-house  necessary.    Hurrying  through  the  coun- 
try was  impossible  at  that  date,  even  for  men.     Few  were  the 
women  who  passed  through  the  wild  region  between  the  Hud- 
son and  Lake  Champlain.     From  Saratoga  the  next  stage  was 
to  McNeill's  Ferry, — a  short  one,  only  two  miles  and  a  half, — 
traveling  in  an  open  wagon.     The  ferry  was  crossed  in  a  raft- 
like boat,  wagon  and  baggage  passing  over  at  the  same  time. 
On  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river  the  travelers  again  took  their 
uneasy  seat,  and   were  jolted  on  their  way  to   Fort   Miller. 
There  is  a  fall  in  the  stream  at  this  point ;  a  mile  beyond  they 
embarked  in  a  rough  bateau  for  Fort  Edward.     The  voyage 
was  short,  only  seven  miles,  but  fatiguing,  and  even  dangerous, 
from  the   great  rapidity  of  the  current.     The  bateaux  were 
strong,  however,  and  worked  by  companies  of  picked  men 
paid  for  this  service  by  Congress, — a  hundred  men  and  their 
captain,  each  receiving  four  pounds  ten  shillings  per  month. 
They  were  expert,  and  all  their  skill  was  needed  to  stem  the 
current   in   critical   places.     They  were  four  hours   working 
their  way  through   the   seven   miles.     Fort   Edward  was  in 
ruins  ;  but  there  was  a  large  inn  here,  and  a  regiment  quartered 
in  it.    A  respectable  dinner  was  found  here,  bear's  meat  being 
one  of  the  delicacies  provided  for  distinguished  guests.    Seven 
miles  of  a  fearfully  bad  road  had  now  to  be  traveled  over  be- 
fore nightfall.     Those  forest  roads  were  always  bad,  but  now 
worse  than   ever,  broken   up  into  deep  ruts  by  the  constant 
passage  of  heavy  wagons  and  artillery.     Frequently  the  track 
lay  through  forest  swamps    over  the   trunks   of  trees, — the 
"  corduroy"  road  of  the  frontier ;  frequently  some  petty  stream 
was  crossed  on  a  bridge  of  logs.     Occasionally  the  travelers 
would  rise  to  the  summit  of  some  sandy  knoll,  looking  down 
upon  the  Hudson,  and  noting  the  spray  from  some  one  of  the 
different  falls  in  the  stream.     There  was  ample  time  to  enjoy 


92         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  beauties  of  nature,  for  the  wagon  moved  at  a  snail's  pace, 
scarcely  more  than  a  mile  an  hour.  Doubtless  the  good  lady 
took  little  heed  on  that  occasion  of  the  picturesque  points  on 
the  road;  her  thoughts  must  have  been  now  with  her  children 
in  the  Albany  nursery,  now  with  her  suffering  husband  at 
Ticonderoga.  Night  found  her  at  Wing's  tavern,  half-way  to 
Fort  George,  within  sound  of  another  cascade  of  the  Hudson. 
With  daylight  the  next  morning  the  journey  was  continued  to 
Fort  George,  some  eight  miles  or  more,  part  of  the  way  over 
swampy  ground,  and  then  over  the  mountains  which  shut  in 
the  lake.  Fort  George,  like  Fort  Edward,  was  a  ruin, — none 
but  ruined  forts,  it  will  be  observed,  to  oppose  an  invading 
force.  But  there  was  a  barrack  here,  where  Mrs.  Schuyler 
could  rest  and  dine.  Then  came  the  voyage  down  Lake 
George,  on  a  craft  of  the  rudest  sort, — a  large  bateau  used 
for  transporting  troops.  There  was  a  sort  of  mast,  and  a 
square  blanket  for  sail ;  an  awning  making  a  shelter  had  been 
prepared  for  the  general's  wife.  There  was  not  a  single  boat 
boasting  a  cabin  on  that  lake.  The  blanket  sail  could  only 
be  used  when  the  wind  was  abaft,  and  against  a  head-wind 
the  bateau-men  made  slow  progress.  Had  a  storm  come  up, 
the  lady  must  needs  have  landed  on  a  desolate  island  or  slept 
beneath  the  awning  and  without  a  bed.  The  bare  plank  was 
both  bed  and  berth  in  those  rough  boats.  The  banks  of  the 
lake  were  entirely  desolate, — a  mountain  wilderness  clothed 
with  a  ragged  forest, — with  the  single  exception  of  Sabba'day, 
or  Sabatay  Point,  as  the  word  was  occasionally  written  at  that 
time.  At  that  spot  there  were  a  few  scattered  cabins  and  about 
fifty  acres  of  cleared  land.  That  night  the  lady  stood  by  her 
husband's  bedside,  cheered,  no  doubt,  by  that  look  of  loving 
trust  and  gratitude  so  touching  in  the  wan  face  of  a  sick  man 
at  the  approach  of  wife,  mother,  or  sister  to  whose  tender  care 
he  resigns  himself.  Thank  God,  that  is  a  look  often  seen  on 
earth !  Repeatedly  during  the  severe  attacks  of  the  general 
Mrs.  Schuyler  left  her  family  and  went  to  the  frontier  post 
where  he  had  been  taken  ill,  to  nurse  and  cheer  him.  He 
always   rallied    under    her    care.     And   on    the   occasion   re- 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  93 

ferred  to  he  soon  recovered  partially,  and  both  returned  to 
Albany. 

In  the  spring  of  1776  three  especial  commissioners  were 
ordered  to  Canada  by  Congress,  at  the  suggestion  of  General 
Schuyler.  These  were  Dr.  Franklin,  Samuel  Chase,  and  Charles 
Carroll.  They  were  invested  with  extraordinary  powers.  Their 
first  destination  was  of  course  Albany.  They  sailed  from  New 
York  on  the  afternoon  of  April  2,  accompanied  by  their  black 
servants,  in  a  sloop  well  provided  with  stores,  and  also  with  beds 
brought  from  Philadelphia.  The  first  afternoon  they  coasted 
the  entire  length  of  Manhattan  Island,  and  anchored.  April  3 
proved  rainy,  with  a  head-wind,  which  compelled  them  to 
anchor  opposite  the  place  of  Colonel  Philipse,  at  Yonkers. 
Towards  evening  they  "  got  under  way,  and  ran  with  a  pretty 
even  gale  as  far  as  the  Highlands,  forty  miles  from  New  York." 
There  they  encountered  serious  difficulties.  "  In  doubling  one 
of  these  steep,  craggy  points,  we  were  in  danger  of  running  on 
the  rocks ;  endeavored  to  double  the  point  called  St.  Anthony's 
Nose,  but  all  our  efforts  proved  ineffectual ;  obliged  to  turn 
some  way  back  in  the  straits  to  seek  shelter;  in  doing  this 
our  mainsail  was  split  to  pieces  by  a  sudden  and  most  violent 
blast  of  wind  off  the  mountains.  Came  to  anchor.  Blew  a  per- 
fect gale  all  night  and  all  day  the  4th.  Remained  all  day  in 
Thunder  Hill  Bay.  Our  crew  were  employed  all  this  day  in 
repairing  the  mainsail.  5th.  Wind  northeast;  mainsail  not 
yet  repaired."  So  wrote  Mr.  Carroll.  The  different  batteries 
were  visited,  and  situations  for  others  pointed  out.  About 
nine  at  night  they  weighed  anchor  with  a  favorable  tide,  and 
came-to  again  about  two  in  the  night  of  the  6th.  A  fine  breeze 
carried  the  sloop  gallantly  up  the  river  on  the  6th,  and  in  the 
evening  she  anchored  within  four  miles  of  Albany,  after  "  a 
glorious  run  of  ninety-six  miles.  7th.  Weighed  anchor  about 
six  o'clock,  wind  fair,  and,  having  passed  over  the  Overslaw, 
had  a  distinct  view  of  Albany,  distant  about  two  miles.  Landed 
at  Albany  at  half-past  seven.  Received  at  landing  by  General 
Schuyler,  who,  understanding  we  were  coming  up,  came  from 
his  house,  about  a  mile  out  of  town,  to  receive  us  and  invite 


94 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


us  to  dine  with  him.  He  behaved  with  great  civility;  lives  in 
pretty  style ;  has  two  daughters  (Betsey  and  Peggy),  lively, 
agreeable,  black-eyed  girls.  .  .  .  The  citizens  chiefly  speak 
Dutch,  being  mostly  descendants  of  Dutchmen;  but  the  Eng- 
lish language  and  manners  are  gaining  apace." 

On  the  9th  the  commissioners,  with  Generals  Schuyler  and 
Thomas,  left  Albany  early,  traveling  in  a  large  wagon,  Mrs. 
Schuyler  and  the  young  ladies  being  of  the  party.  A  little 
before  sunset  they  arrived  at  the  country-house  at  Sara- 
toga. The  roads  were  in  very  bad  condition.  Poor  old  Dr. 
Franklin  was  sorely  jolted  and  bruised.  "  General  Schuyler 
informed  me,"  says  Mr.  Carroll,  "  that  an  uninterrupted  water- 
carriage  between  New  York  and  Quebec  might  be  perfected 
at  fifty  thousand  pounds'  expense,  by  means  of  locks  and  a 
small  canal.  .  .  .  The  distance  is  not  more  than  three  miles." 
Here,  it  is  said,  we  have  the  first  official  suggestion  of  what 
became  afterwards  the  great  canal  system  of  the  State  of  New 
York.  Only  a  few  months  later,  General  Schuyler  was  called 
upon  by  Congress  to  take  the  first  steps  in  the  work.  "  The 
lands  about  Saratoga  are  very  good,  particularly  the  bottom- 
lands. Hudson's  River  runs  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the 
house,  and  you  have  a  pleasing  view  of  it  for  two  or  three 
miles  above  and  below.  A  stream  called  the  Fish-kill,  which 
rises  out  of  Saratoga  Lake,  about  six  miles  from  the  general's 
house,  runs  close  by  it  and  turns  several  mills, — one  a  grist- 
mill, two  saw-mills  (one  of  them  carrying  fourteen  saws),  and 
a  hemp  and  flax-mill.  This  mill  is  of  a  new  construction,  and 
answers  equally  for  breaking  hemp  or  flax." 

A  week  passed  pleasantly  for  the  commissioners  under  that 
hospitable  roof.  Mrs.  Schuyler,  with  her  never-failing  kind- 
ness, proved  a  good  nurse  to  dear  old  Dr.  Franklin :  the  rest 
and  good  care  of  his  hostess  put  the  old  man  in  traveling 
condition  again,  although  at  one  time  he  thought  the  tem- 
pestuous voyage  up  the  Hudson,  and  the  fearful  roads  from 
Albany,  must  shorten  his  days,  and  he  set  about  writing  fare- 
well letters  to  his  friends.  The  young  ladies,  a  few  years 
later  Mrs.  Alexander  Hamilton  and  Mrs.  Stephen  Van  Ren- 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  95 

selaer,  entertained  Mr.  Carroll  very  agreeably.  "April  i6th> 
I  parted  with  regret  from  the  amiable  family  of  General 
Schuyler.  The  ease  and  affability  with  which  we  were  treated, 
and  the  lively  behavior  of  the  young  ladies,  made  Saratoga  a 
most  pleasing  sejour,  the  remembrance  of  which  will  long  re- 
main with  me." 

But  little  was  accomplished  by  the  commissioners.  They 
found  matters  in  a  very  discouraging  state,  and  the  arrival  of 
a  British  fleet  in  the  St.  Lawrence  rendered  retreat  a  necessity. 
Dr.  Franklin  returned  to  Albany  exhausted  by  the  journey 
and  its  hardships.  As  a  matter  of  course  he  stayed  at  General 
Schuyler's  house.  The  general  was  again  at  Ticonderoga, 
but  Mrs.  Schuyler  received  him  with  her  never-failing  kind- 
ness, and  once  more  her  care  and  attention  revived  the  old 
philosopher.  The  doctor  wished  to  continue  his  journey  to 
New  York  in  a  "  sulky,"  driving  himself.  This,  his  hostess 
would  not  hear  of:  the  roads  were  much  too  bad;  he  himself 
was  not  well  enough  for  the  exertion  of  driving.  No,  he  must 
let  her  make  arrangements  for  his  comfort ;  he  must  be  satis- 
fied to  take  the  easiest  carriage  she  could  provide  for  him, 
and  he  must  submit  to  be  driven  by  "  Lewis,"  a  particularly 
careful  coachman.  It  was  well  that  Mrs.  Schuyler  persisted 
in  having  her  own  way  on  this  occasion,  for  the  road  along 
the  Hudson — one  of  the  best  in  America — was  in  such  a  con- 
dition that  the  doctor  confessed,  on  arriving  in  New  York, 
that  he  and  the  "  sulky"  would  doubtless  have  been  wrecked 
together,  and  that  it  required  all  the  skill  of"  Lewis"  to  bring 
him  through  safe  in  life  and  limb.  He  was  very  grateful  to 
"  good  Mrs.  Schuyler." 

Never  were  General  Schuyler's  labors  more  arduous  than  at 
this  moment,  and  never,  apparently,  did  he  more  need  repose. 
He  was  still  a  great  sufferer,  but  wonderfully  active.  "The 
Indians,  the  Tories,  the  exchequer,  the  commissariat,  the 
transportation,  the  recruiting,  the  general  supervision  and  di- 
rection of  military  and  Indian  affairs, — all  claimed  and  re- 
ceived his  attention,"  says  Mr.  Lossing,  in  his  interesting 
biography.     And  what  was  to  be  the  reward  of  exertions  so 


g6         WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

great?  New  England  had  never  done  justice  to  General 
Schuyler.  The  part  he  had  taken  as  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee which  upheld  the  legal  claim  of  New  York  to  the  ter- 
ritory also  claimed  by  New  Hampshire — the  present  State  of 
Vermont — had  laid  the  foundation  of  this  prejudice,  and  sec- 
tional jealousy  added  force  to  the  feeling.  There  is  always 
childishness  in  these  sectional  prejudices,  which  are  generally 
strongest  in  the  infancy  of  a  nation,  and  which  form  no  true 
element  of  love  of  country.  Strong  and  partial  attachment  to 
home  ground,  to  familiar  scenes,  to  the  thousand  ties  con- 
nected with  them,  is  a  perfectly  natural  and  healthful  feeling. 
But  contempt,  hatred,  and  abuse  of  all  that  lies  beyond  the 
border  become  absurd,  unworthy,  dangerous.  That  supreme 
satisfaction  with  one's  own  canton,  that  supreme  contempt  for 
the  adjoining  parish,  was  very  general  throughout  Europe 
among  the  ignorant  and  half  educated  only  as  late  as  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  Nay,  even  your  philosopher  was  not  always 
free  from  the  weakness.  How  seldom  did  the  Englishman  do 
justice  to  the  Scotchman!  how  widely  sundered  in  feeling 
were  the  different  provinces  in  France,  the  different  cities  of 
Italy,  of  Germany!  Such  a  state  of  feeling  is  essentially 
puerile,  a  combination  of  vanity  and  ignorance.  The  different 
colonies  of  America  were  no  exception  to  the  general  rule, 
but  in  New  England  there  was  a  force  in  the  feeling  beyond 
what  existed  elsewhere.  It  was  probably  the  Puritan  spirit 
which  gave  exaggeration  to  the  self-complacency  to  which 
they  were  in  many  particulars  very  justly  entitled.  We  are 
all  wiser  to-day,  but  in  the  year  of  grace  1776  one  of  the  best 
men  in  the  country  was  to  be  the  victim  of  this  miserable 
prejudice  and  jealousy.  The  expedition  to  Canada  had  failed. 
That  failure  was  laid  to  the  charge  of  General  Schuyler.  In 
truth  the  blame  lay  with  Congress,  who  had  strangely  neg- 
lected to  send  the  reinforcements  and  supplies  without  which 
success  was  impossible, — reinforcements  and  supplies  most 
earnestly  and  unceasingly  asked  for  by  General  Schuyler. 
Calumnies  as  absurd  as  they  were  outrageous  were  uttered 
against  him.     The  active  man  was  called  a  sluggard.     The 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


97 


frank  man  was  called  a  traitor,  a  spy.  The  brave  man  was 
accused  of  cowardice.  The  generous,  self-sacrificing  man  was 
accused  of  venality.  But  where  is  the  calumny  which  party 
prejudice  will  not  utter?  There  was  a  frenzy  of  popular  pas- 
sion aroused  in  New  England  against  the  upright  leader. 

How  precious  must  have  been  the  peaceful  haven  of  his 
home  at  such  moments, — the  tender  love,  sympathy,  and  re- 
spect of  the  good  wife,  the  guileless  affection  of  his  children  ! 
How  happy  the  wife,  the  children,  who  can,  in  the  hour  of 
trial,  cheer,  soothe,  console  husband  and  father ! 

But  General  Schuyler  was  not  the  man  to  allow  these  at- 
tacks upon  his  personal  character  to  pass  unrebuked.  He 
demanded  a  court  of  inquiry.  "  It  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  myself, 
to  my  family,  and  to  the  respectable  Congress  of  this  State, 
that  I  should  exculpate  myself  from  the  many  odious  charges 
with  which  the  country  resounds  to  my  prejudice."  He  did 
not  abandon  his  post,  however.  In  the  winter  of  1777  he 
was  very  actively  engaged  preparing  for  the  next  campaign, 
which  all  foresaw  must  be  of  vital  importance.  In  April,  on  a 
journey  to  New  York,  he  wrote  to  his  family  that  there  was  a 
rumor  he  was  to  be  superseded  by  General  Gates.  The  an- 
swer from  wife  and  children  reported  "  all  well  at  home ;  that 
nothing  seemed  wanting  but  his  presence  as  Philip  Schuyler, 
Esq.,  to  make  them  happy."  General  Gates  arrived  in  Al- 
bany, and  was  graciously  received  by  Mrs.  Schuyler,  who 
offered  him  the  hospitalities  of  her  house.  The  guest  seems 
to  have  felt  rather  uncomfortable,  but  was  civil.  A  few  weeks 
later  came  the  court  of  inquiry.  May,  1777,  Congress  ap- 
pointed a  committee  of  one  member  from  each  colony  to  form 
the  court.  General  Schuyler's  vindication  was  not  only  com- 
plete, it  was  triumphant.  Never  had  his  character  stood  higher 
than  after  he  had  himself  read  his  manly  defense  before  the 
committee.  His  appointment  as  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Northern  Department  was  renewed,  with  increase  of  powers. 

Early  in  the  summer  it  became  evident  that  an  invasion 
from  Canada  by  Oswego  and  Lake  Champlain  was  intended, 
Albany  being,  as  usual,  the  point  aimed  at.    General  Schuyler 

7 


gS        WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

was  indefatigable  in  his  exertions  during  those  eventful  sum- 
mer months.  And  one  might  almost  assert  that  the  inaction 
of  Congress  as  regarded  that  particular  department  was  also 
as  marked  as  usual.  They  were  sadly  wanting  in  "military 
electricity,"  as  General  Lee  declared.  It  would  seem  as  if 
General  Schuyler  was  expected  to  raise  his  own  armies,  to 
feed,  clothe,  and  equip  them  with  little  support  from  the  gov- 
ernment. There  was  lamentable  deficiency  in  every  branch 
of  the  supplies, — food,  clothing,  and  ammunition.  Reinforce- 
ments were  called  for  in  vain.  Then,  in  June,  came  the  proud 
advance  of  General  Burgoyne,  with  an  army  of  nearly  eight 
thousand  men,  admirably  equipped,  under  the  command  of 
experienced  officers,  moving  gallantly  up  Lake  Champlain. 

From  the  first,  in  spite  of  all  deficiencies,  General  Schuyler, 
and  General  Washington  also,  had  felt  confident  the  enemy's 
expedition  would  prove  a  failure.  The  evacuation  of  Ticon- 
deroga  and  the  retreat  of  General  St.  Clair  were  a  shock  to 
this  opinion.  That  step  had  been  taken  without  orders.  It 
was  known  to  the  superior  officers  that  the  post  could  not 
be  long  defended  against  a  powerful  invading  force  unless 
strengthened ;  but  it  was  expected  that  the  approach  of  the 
enemy  would  be  retarded,  at  least,  at  that  point.  General  St. 
Clair  was,  however,  compelled  to  retire,  was  pursued,  and  a 
portion  of  his  army  defeated  at  Hubbardton.  General  Bur- 
goyne advanced  to  Skenesborough.  The  whole  country  was 
thrown  into  agitation.  The  alarm  in  Albany  was  great ;  people 
were  running  wildly  about  the  streets,  half  distracted,  sending 
off  goods  and  families.  They  dreaded  the  tomahawk  of  Gen- 
eral Burgoyne's  Indian  allies.  General  Schuyler  wrote  most 
urgent  appeals  to  Congress,  to  the  Colonial  Assemblies,  to 
General  Washington,  for  reinforcements ;  and  at  the  same 
time  every  hour  was  employed  in  making  the  best  possible 
disposition  of  his  available  force,  or  in  throwing  every  con- 
ceivable obstacle  known  to  frontier  warfare  in  the  way  of  the 
enemy.  Roads  were  thoroughly  broken  up,  great  trees  were 
felled  across  them,  trenches  were  dug,  all  bridges  were  burnt, 
the  navigable  streams  were   filled  with    obstructions.      The 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


99 


cattle  were  driven  off  or  killed.  The  forage  was  removed  or 
destroyed.  The  region  between  Skenesborough  and  the 
Hudson  became  once  more  a  wilderness.  Rude  defenses 
these,  but  in  the  end  more  effectual  than  the  walls  of  Ticon- 
deroga.  The  fall  of  that  post  had  again  aroused  the  popular 
cry,  fierce  and  loud,  against  General  Schuyler.  The  Eastern 
militia  refused  to  serve  under  him.  It  was  harvest-time,  July, 
1777.  More  than  half  the  militia  who  came  into  the  camp 
withdrew  to  their  farms,  under  the  excuse  of  cutting  their 
grain.  On  the  29th  of  July  the  hapless  Jane  McCrea  was 
murdered  by  the  Indians.  The  women  and  children  on  the 
Upper  Hudson  were  all  hurrying  into  Albany  for  safety.  As 
parties  of  these  fugitives,  in  wagons  or  on  foot,  were  flying 
southward,  they  met  a  single  carriage  traveling  northward, 
guarded  by  one  armed  man.  Within  sat  Mrs.  Schuyler.  The 
fugitives  were  amazed  at  her  daring.  Had  she  no  fear  of  the 
tomahawk  ?  Were  not  parties  of  Indians  known  to  be  lurking 
in  the  woods,  now  here,  now  there  ?  She  would  have  to  pass 
through  miles  of  the  dark  forest,  and  but  a  single  armed  man 
to  guard  her.  Had  she  not  heard  of  the  fate  of  Jane  McCrea  ? 
Mrs.  Schuyler  knew  many  of  these  people;  she  leaned  from 
the  carriage  to  speak  to  them,  to  inquire  after  the  women  and 
children;  she  thanked  them  for  their  friendly  remonstrances; 
but  she  would  not  listen  to  their  entreaties  to  turn  back.  She 
took  leave  of  them  with  her  usual  kindly  manner,  and 
smiling  said,  "The  general's  zvife  must  not  be  afraid/"  The 
fugitives  hurried  towards  Albany,  and  the  solitary  carriage 
went  its  way  towards  Saratoga.  No  lurking  Indian  appeared. 
The  journey  was  accomplished  safely.  Mrs.  Schuyler's  object 
in  going  to  the  country-house  at  that  moment  was  to  make 
arrangements  with  the  general  for  the  removal  of  all  valuables 
to  a  place  of  safety.  It  was  her  last  visit  to  the  favorite  home 
where  she  had  passed  so  many  happy  months  with  her  hus- 
band and  children,  among  a  simple  people  to  whom  her  kind- 
ness had  much  endeared  her.  The  groves  were  then  in  their 
midsummer  glory.  Ere  the  leaves  fell,  that  pleasant,  cheerful 
home,  the  mills,  even  the  very  fences,  were  to  be  destroyed  by 


100      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  firebrand  of  the  enemy.  Already  the  adjoining  country 
had  a  desolate  aspect.  The  meadows  and  grain-fields  had  been 
laid  waste  by  the  general's  orders,  in  order  to  cut  off  the 
enemy's  supplies.  There  is  a  family  tradition  that  on  this 
occasion  Mrs.  Schuyler  herself,  to  aid  in  the  necessary  work 
of  destroying  the  forage,  set  fire  with  her  own  hand  to  one 
of  her  husband's  wheat-fields. 

August  10,  General  Schuyler  was  again  at  Albany,  hurry- 
ing forward  supplies,  when  letters  reached  him  stating  that 
he  had  been  superseded  by  General  Gates.  Mr.  Jay  wrote 
him  an  explanation  :  "  Washington  and  Congress  were  ad- 
vised that  unless  another  general  presided  in  the  Northern 
Department  the  militia  of  New  England  would  not  be  brought 
into  the  field.  The  Congress,  under  this  apprehension,  ex- 
changed their  general  for  the  militia, — a  bargain  which  can 
receive  no  justification  from  the  supposed  necessity  of  the 
times."  Never  was  General  Schuyler's  devotion  to  the  country 
proved  more  clearly  than  on  this  occasion.  He  received 
General  Gates  politely,  offered  all  the  assistance  in  his  power, 
and  remained  with  the  army  in  citizen's  dress,  without  military 
rank,  to  bring  forward  the  Albany  militia.  Already  before 
General  Gates  appeared  there  had  been  a  striking  change  for 
the  better  in  the  Northern  Department.  The  fall  of  Ticon- 
deroga  had  at  last  thoroughly  aroused  the  country  to  the  ne- 
cessity of  exertion  ;  the  success  at  Bennington  and  Fort  Stan- 
wix  gave  encouragement  to  the  militia.  The  harvest  was 
nearly  over ;  troops  applied  for  earlier  by  General  Schuyler 
were  now  advancing ;  supplies  gathered  by  his  indefatigable 
labors  were  already  moving  towards  Saratoga  ;  provisions  pur- 
chased with  his  own  funds  or  on  his  personal  responsibility 
were  filling  the  storehouses.  Everything  was  prepared  for  the 
repulse  of  the  advancing  enemy.  And  it  was  at  this  precise 
moment  that  General  Gates  took  the  command.  The  result  is 
well  known.  The  gathering  of  the  American  army  on  the 
Upper  Hudson,  the  slow  approach  of  General  Burgoyne,  his 
advance  impeded  at  every  step  by  the  obstacles  thrown  in  his 
path  by  General  Schuyler,  pausing  to  fill  up  ditches,  to  rebuild 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  101 

bridges, — no  less  than  forty  of  these  within  a  few  miles, — to  cut 
new  roads  through  the  old  forest,  to  lay  corduroy  roads  of  a 
mile  or  two  in  length  across  swamps,  and  at  length  the  suc- 
cessive battles  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  After  the  battle 
of  July  7,  when  the  ammunition  of  the  American  army  was 
all  but  exhausted,  General  Schuyler  sent  window-leads  from 
Albany  for  bullets.  The  American  force  was  increasing  every 
day  by  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops.  On  the  7th  of  October  came 
the  decisive  battle,  that  most  important  victory  for  America. 
General  Burgoyne  began  a  very  ill-managed  retreat,  passing 
his  days  in  making  up  his  mind  as  to  the  next  step,  passing 
his  nights  in  carousing  and  singing.  General  Schuyler's  house 
had  been  his  headquarters  at  Saratoga;  he  returned  there 
after  the  battle  of  the  7th,  and  passed  a  merry  night  on  the 
9th,  carousing  while  his  army  lay  around  him  actually  suffer- 
ing from  cold  and  hunger.  "  Schuyler's  house  was  illuminated, 
and  rang  with  singing,  laughter,  and  the  jingling  of  glasses. 
There  Burgoyne  was  sitting,  with  merry  companions,  at  a 
dainty  supper,  while  the  champagne  was  flowing."  So  wrote 
a  German  officer.  The  next  morning  on  leaving  General 
Schuyler's  house  General  Burgoyne  ordered  it  to  be  burned, 
with  the  neighboring  mills.  On  the  morning  of  the  17th  the 
English  commander  surrendered  himself  and  his  army  amid 
the  smouldering  ruins  "  on  the  ground  where  Mr.  Schuyler's 
house  stood."  And  there  General  Schuyler  himself,  in  citi- 
zen's dress,  saw  the  surrender  which  in  justice  should  have 
been  made  to  himself. 

A  few  hours  later,  Madame  de  Riedesel,  the  wife  of  the 
German  general,  with  her  three  little  children,  came  into  the 
American  camp.  "  When  I  approached  the  tents,  a  noble- 
looking  man  came  towards  me,  took  the  children  out  of  the 
waeon,  embraced  and  kissed  them,  and  then,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  helped  me  also  to  alight.  '  You  tremble,'  said  he  :  '  fear 
nothing.'  '  No,'  replied  I,  '  for  you  are  so  kind,  and  have 
been  so  tender  towards  my  children,  that  it  has  inspired  me 
with  courage.'  He  then  led  me  to  the  tent  of  General  Gates, 
with  whom  I  found  Generals  Burgoyne  and  Philips,  who  were 


102      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

upon  an  extremely  friendly  footing  with  him.  Burgoyne  said 
to  me, '  You  may  now  dismiss  all  your  apprehensions;  for  your 
sufferings  are  at  an  end.'  All  the  generals  remained  to  dine 
with  General  Gates.  The  gentleman  who  had  received  me  so 
kindly  came  up  and  said  to  me,  '  It  may  be  embarrassing  to 
you  to  dine  with  all  these  gentlemen ;  come  now  with  your 
children  into  my  tent,  where  I  will  give  you,  it  is  true,  a  frugal 
meal,  but  one  that  will  be  accompanied  by  the  best  of  wishes.' 
'  You  are  certainly,'  said  I, '  a  husband  and  a  father,  since  you 
show  me  so  much  kindness.'  I  then  learned  that  he  was 
the  American  General  Schuyler.  He  entertained  me  with 
excellent  smoked  tongue,  beefsteak,  potatoes,  good  butter  and 
bread.  Never  have  I  eaten  a  better  meal.  I  was  content.  I 
saw  that  all  around  me  were  so  likewise;  but  that  which 
rejoiced  me  more  than  everything  else  was  seeing  that  my 
husband  was  out  of  all  danger.  As  soon  as  we  had  finished 
dinner,  he  invited  me  to  take  up  my  residence  at  his  house, 
which  was  situated  in  Albany.  I  sent  and  asked  my  husband 
what  I  should  do.  He  sent  me  word  to  accept  the  invitation. 
General  Schuyler  was  so  obliging  as  to  send  with  me  a  French 
officer,  who  was  a  very  agreeable  man.  As  soon  as  he  had 
escorted  me  to  the  house  where  we  were  to  remain,  he  went 
back."  The  house  was  an  inn,  half-way  to  Albany.  General 
Schuyler  had  already  sent  Colonel  Varick  to  Albany  to  ask 
Mrs.  Schuyler  to  prepare  for  guests.  The  next  day  Generals 
Burgoyne,  Riedesel,  and  Philips,  and  their  suite,  arrived. 
Twenty-two  of  the  chief  prisoners  of  war  were  presented  to 
Mrs.  Schuyler  in  her  drawing-room  that  evening,  including 
the  charming  German  lady  and  her  three  little  children. 
"  They  loaded  us  with  kindness,"  said  Madame  de  Riedesel, 
"  and  they  behaved  in  the  same  manner  to  General  Burgoyne, 
though  he  had  ordered  their  handsome  houses  to  be  burned, 
— without  any  necessity,  it  was  said.  Even  General  Burgoyne 
was  deeply  moved  at  their  magnanimity,  and  said  to  General 
Schuyler,  '  Is  it  to  me,  who  have  done  you  so  much  harm, 
that  you  show  so  much  kindness  ?'  '  That  is  the  fate  of  war,' 
said  the  brave  man  ;  '  let  us  say  no  more  about  it.'     We  re- 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


103 


mained  three  days  with  them,  and  they  seemed  very  reluctant 
to  let  us  go."  There  is  apparently  a  misprint  in  the  number  of 
days  thus  spent  with  Mrs.  Schuyler  :  it  was  probably  ten  days. 
When  the  excellent  German  lady  left  Albany,  she  carried  with 
her  three  little  daughters, — Gustava,  Frederica,  and  Caroline : 
later  she  had  two  more,  bearing  the  peculiar  names  of 
America  and  Canada.  The  good  lady  also  carried  with  her 
the  colors  of  the  German  troops,  concealed  in  a  bag  by  Gen- 
eral Riedesel,  who  would  not  surrender  them  at  Saratoga. 
They  were  afterwards  sewed  up  in  a  mattress  "  by  an  honor- 
able German  tailor,"  and  thus  smuggled  out  of  the  country. 

General  Burgoyne  remained  ten  days  at  Mrs.  Schuyler's, 
while  preparing  his  dispatches.  At  a  later  date,  in  speaking 
in  Parliament  of  the  kindness  of  General  Schuyler,  he  made 
a  strong  acknowledgment :  "  He  sent  an  aide-de-camp  to  con- 
duct me  to  Albany,  in  order,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  procure 
better  quarters  than  a  stranger  might  be  able  to  find.  That 
gentleman  conducted  me  to  a  very  elegant  house,  and,  to  my 
great  surprise,  presented  me  to  Mrs.  Schuyler  and  her  family. 
In  that  house  I  remained  during  my  whole  stay  in  Albany, 
with  a  table  of  more  than  twenty  covers  for  me  and  my  friends, 
and  every  other  demonstration  of  hospitality."  The  English 
general  remained  in  Albany  until  October  26.  Colonel  Var- 
ick  wrote  to  General  Schuyler,  October  25,  "  Generals  Bur- 
goyne and  Riedesel  and  their  retinue  are  still  here.  They 
give  Mrs.  Schuyler  no  small  trouble.  The  former's  dispatches 
are  not  yet  completed.  On  Saturday  he  mentioned  to  Mrs. 
Schuyler,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  his  situation,  that  he  had  re- 
ceived so  much  civility  from  you,  and  again  from  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
whose  property  he  had  destroyed,  but  pleaded  that  it  was 
thought  necessary  to  save  his  army.  He  behaves  with  great 
politeness." 

"The  British  commander,"  says  M.  de  Chastellux,  "  was 
extremely  well  received  by  Mrs.  Schuyler,  and  lodged  in  the 
best  apartment  in  the  house.  An  excellent  supper  was  served 
him  in  the  evening,  the  honors  of  which  were  done  with  so 
much  grace  that  he  was  affected  even  to  tears,  and  said,  with  a 


104      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

deep  sigh, '  Indeed,  this  is  doing  too  much  for  a  man  who  has 
ravaged  their  lands,  and  burned  their  dwellings.'  The  next 
morning  he  was  reminded  of  his  misfortunes  by  an  incident 
which  would  have  appeared  gay  to  any  one  else.  His  bed 
was  prepared  in  a  large  room,  but,  as  he  had  a  numerous 
suite,  several  mattresses  were  spread  on  the  floor  for  some 
officers  to  sleep  near  him.  Mrs.  Schuyler's  second  son,  a 
little  spoilt  child  of  about  seven,  very  forward  and  arch,  as  all 
American  children  are,  but  very  amiable,  was  running  about 
the  house  all  the  morning,  according  to  custom,  and,  opening 
the  door  of  the  saloon,  he  laughed  at  seeing  all  the  English 
officers  collected,  and,  shutting  the  door  after  him,  cried,  '  You 
are  all  my  prisoners.'  This  innocent  cruelty  rendered  them 
more  melancholy." 

Mrs.  Schuyler's  skillful  management  as  the  head  of  a  large 
household  must  have  been  put  to  a  severe  test  by  this  numer- 
ous and  sudden  invasion.  The  strain  upon  the  domestic  com- 
missariat must  have  been  heavy.  In  winter  there  was  always 
abundance  of  game  brought  into  Albany  by  Indians  and  other 
hunters ;  venison,  bear's  meat,  wild  turkeys,  grouse,  and  wild 
ducks  were  almost  as  common  as  beefsteaks  are  to-day ;  and 
the  supply  of  fish  was  very  rich.  But  in  autumn  some  of 
those  delicacies  were  probably  wanting.  The  old  negro  cooks 
must  have  been  half  distracted.  But  happily  not  one  of  them 
suffered  the  fate  of  Vatel :  the  bill  of  fare  was  complete.  Mrs. 
Schuyler  in  the  drawing-room  and  her  negro  aids  in  pantry 
and  kitchen  all  came  off  with  flying  colors. 

The  court-martial  demanded  by  General  Schuyler  was  de- 
layed until  October,  1778.  He  was  then  tried  upon  the  charge 
of  "  neglect  of  duty,"  in  being  absent  from  Ticonderoga  at  the 
time  of  the  evacuation.  As  all  his  friends  anticipated,  he  was 
acquitted  with  "highest  honor!*  He  then,  early  in  1779,  re- 
signed his  commission  as  major-general.  He  was  now  a  dele- 
gate to  Congress.  He  was  anxious  that  Mrs.  Schuyler  and 
his  daughters  should  go  with  him  to  Philadelphia.  The 
Albany  house  was  accordingly  closed,  and  the  ladies  accom- 
panied the  general  to  what  was  then  the  political  capital  of 


MPS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


105 


the  country.  They  shared  for  a  time  in  the  usual  gayeties, 
but  most  of  the  winter  was  passed  at  Morristown  in  the  camp. 
General  Schuyler  was  strongly  attached  to  General  Washing- 
ton. He  was,  indeed,  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  noble 
chief,  who  had  a  great  regard  for  him,  and  frequently  in  writing 
to  him  signed  his  letters  "  your  affectionate  friend,"  or  "  yours 
affectionately,"  an  honor  conferred  on  very  few  of  his  corre- 
spondents. General  Schuyler  occupied  a  modest  house  near 
headquarters.  Mrs.  Washington  and  a  number  of  other  ladies, 
wives  of  the  superior  officers,  were  in  the  camp  that  winter,  and 
the  society  was  very  agreeable.  The  ladies  were  busy  making 
shirts  and  knitting  stockings  for  the  soldiers.  No  doubt  Mrs. 
Schuyler's  knitting-needles  were  actively  at  work,  and  the 
young  ladies  must  have  taken  part  in  the  shirt-making.  One 
of  General  Washington's  aides,  Colonel  Hamilton,  became 
attached  to  Miss  Eliza  Schuyler.  An  engagement  took  place, 
and  in  the  spring  they  were  married.  The  eldest  daughter, 
Miss  Angelica  Schuyler,  had  been  already  married  several 
years  earlier  to  Mr.  Church,  an  English  gentleman. 

A  few  months  later,  during  the  winter,  M.  de  Chastellux 
visited  Albany,  and  was  a  guest  of  General  Schuyler.  "A 
handsome  house  half-way  up  the  bank  opposite  the  ferry 
seems  to  attract  attention,  and  to  invite  strangers  to  stop  at 
General  Schuyler's,  who  is  the  proprietor  as  well  as  architect. 
I  had  recommendations  to  him  from  all  quarters,  but  particu- 
larly from  General  Washington  and  Mrs.  Church.  I  had  be- 
sides given  rendezvous  to  Colonel  Hamilton,  who  had  just 
married  another  of  his  daughters,  and  was  preceded  by  the 
Vicomte  de  Noailles  and  the  Comte  de  Damas,  who  I  knew 
were  arrived  the  night  before.  The  sole  difficulty  therefore 
consisted  in  passing  the  river.  Whilst  the  boat  was  making 
its  way  with  difficulty  through  the  flakes  of  ice,  which  we 
were  obliged  to  break  as  we  advanced,  Mr.  Lynch,  who  is  not 
indifferent  about  a  good  dinner,  contemplating  General  Schuy- 
ler's house,  mournfully  said  to  me,  '  I  am  sure  the  Vicomte 
and  Damas  are  now  at  table,  where  they  have  good  cheer  and 
good  company,  while  we  are  here  knocking  our  heels  in  hopes 


106      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

of  getting  this  evening  to  some  wretched  ale-house !'  I  par- 
took a  little  of  his  anxiety,  but  diverted  myself  by  assuring 
him  that  they  saw  us  from  the  windows,  that  I  even  dis- 
tinguished the  Vicomte  de  Noailles,  who  was  looking  at  us 
through  a  telescope,  and  that  he  was  going  to  send  somebody 
to  conduct  us,  on  our  landing,  to  that  excellent  house,  where 
we  should  find  dinner  ready  to  be  served ;  I  even  pretended 
that  a  sleigh  I  had  seen  descending  towards  the  river  was  de- 
signed for  us.  As  chance  would  have  it,  never  was  conjecture 
more  just.  The  first  person  we  saw  on  shore  was  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Mauduit,  who  was  waiting  for  us  with  the  general's 
sleigh,  into  which  we  quickly  stepped,  and  were  conveyed  in 
an  instant  into  a  handsome  saloon,  near  a  good  fire,  with  Mr. 
Schuyler,  his  wife  and  daughters.  While  we  were  warming 
ourselves,  dinner  was  served,  to  which  every  one  did  honor, 
as  well  as  to  the  Madeira,  which  was  excellent,  and  made  us 
completely  forget  the  rigor  of  the  season  and  the  fatigue  of 
the  journey.  General  Schuyler's  family  was  composed  of 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  his  second  daughter,  who  has  a  mild,  agree- 
able countenance;  of  Miss  Peggy  Schuyler,  whose  features 
are  animated  and  striking ;  of  another  charming  girl,  only 
eight  years  old ;  and  of  three  boys,  the  eldest  of  whom  is  fifteen, 
the  handsomest  children  one  can  see.  He  is  himself  about 
fifty,  but  already  gouty  and  infirm.  The  government  are  at 
present  paying  their  court  to  him  and  pressing  him  to  accept 
the  office  of  Secretary  at  War." 

Miss  Margaret  Schuyler,  mentioned  by  M.  de  Chastellux, 
married  a  few  months  later  Stephen  Van  Rensselaer,  the  Pa- 
troon  of  Albany.  The  charming  girl  of  eight  was  Cornelia, 
who  married  Washington  Morton.  The  three  sons  were  John, 
who  died  early,  Philip,  a  member  of  Congress  in  1820,  and 
Rensselaer,  an  officer  in  the  army. 

Among  the  many  guests  whom  Mrs.  Schuyler  received 
with  her  usual  courteous  kindness  at  this  period  was  Aaron 
Burr,  coming  to  Albany  to  practice  law, — he  who  twenty 
years  later  brought  such  grief  upon  her  family  by  the  death 
of  General  Hamilton. 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


107 


The  summer  of  1781  was  marked  by  an  important  incident. 
A  secret  plot  was  formed  to  capture  General  Schuyler  and 
carry  him  a  prisoner  to  Canada.  John  Walter  Meyer,  a  bold 
and  reckless  partisan,  holding  an  officer's  commission  in  the 
British  service,  was  employed  to  carry  out  the  plan.  This 
man  knew  General  Schuyler  personally,  and  had  been  a  guest 
at  his  table.  The  moment  chosen  for  the  capture  was  in  the 
month  of  August,  when  the  general  was  at  his  town-house, 
about  half  a  mile  below  Albany.  Several  abductions  of  im- 
portance had  recently  taken  place,  and  others  were  known  to 
be  planned.  General  Washington  wrote  to  General  Schuyler 
urging  caution  upon  him.  Accordingly,  a  guard  of  six  men 
were  on  duty  at  the  house.  Meyer  brought  his  band  of  In- 
dians, Canadians,  and  Tories  into  the  neighborhood,  conceal- 
ing them  for  ten  days  among  the  pine  woods,  while  he  recon- 
noitered  the  ground.  Seizing  a  Dutch  laborer,  he  forced  the 
man  to  give  him  the  information  he  needed  about  the  condi- 
tion of  things  at  the  house,  and  then  released  him  under  an 
oath  of  secrecy.  The  laborer,  however,  went  immediately  to 
the  general  and  revealed  the  plot, — very  probably  in  Dutch. 
A  loyalist  friend  of  the  general  also  gave  him  a  hint  at  the 
same  time.  Towards  evening  of  a  sultry  day  in  August  the 
general,  Mrs.  Schuyler,  and  their  children  were  collected  in 
the  hall ;  an  infant,  the  youngest  child  of  the  house,  lay  asleep 
in  its  cradle  in  an  adjoining  room.  The  servants  were  scat- 
tered about  in  various  ways.  Three  of  the  guards  were  off 
duty,  asleep  in  the  basement;  the  other  three  were  lying  on 
the  grass  in  the  garden,  their  arms  within  reach.  A  servant 
came  to  the  general,  saying  that  a  stranger  wished  to  see  him 
at  the  back  gate.  General  Schuyler  understood  the  summons. 
Doors  and  windows  were  instantly  closed  and  barred,  and  the 
family  collected  in  an  upper  room.  The  general  ran  to  his 
bedroom  for  fire-arms,  when  from  the  window  he  saw  a  wild 
band  gathering  stealthily  around  the  house, — Meyer  and  his 
gang.  He  fired  a  pistol  from  the  window  to  arouse  the  sleep- 
ing guard  and  alarm  the  town.  The  guard  sprang  to  their 
arms,  but  were  soon  overpowered.     The  Indians  burst  open 


108      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  doors  and  rushed  into  the  house.  Suddenly  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler, in  wild  anxiety,  looking  over  the  family  group,  missed 
her  youngest  child,  the  infant  in  the  cradle !  In  the  wild 
confusion,  the  safety  of  the  general  being  the  first  object,  the 
sleeping  child  had  been  forgotten.  The  mother  ran  to  the 
door  of  the  room,  but  one  thought  in  her  heart, — to  recover 
her  child.  But  the  general  detained  her,  saying  that  her 
own  life  must  not  be  sacrificed.  Margaret  Schuyler,  the  bril- 
liant young  girl,  heard  her  mother's  cry,  saw  the  detaining 
hand  of  her  father,  and  sprang  to  the  door  herself,  flew  down 
two  flights  of  stairs,  rushed  into  the  din  and  confusion  below, 
snatched  her  little  sister  from  the  cradle,  and  was  running  up- 
stairs with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  when  an  Indian  aimed  a 
tomahawk  at  her.  Her  dress  was  cut ;  the  weapon  passed 
within  a  few  inches  of  the  infant's  head,  and  lodged  in  the  rail- 
ing of  the  stairs.  Most  of  the  band  were  now  collected  in  the 
dining-room,  plundering  the  plate-closet.  Meyer  saw  the 
young  girl  running  up-stairs  with  the  infant,  and,  taking  her  for 
the  nurse,  called  out,  "  Wench,  wench,  where  is  your  master?" 
"  Gone  to  alarm  the  town !"  was  the  answer,  and  in  another 
moment  she  had  gained  the  upper  room  in  safety  and  laid  the 
child  in  her  mother's  arms.  There  are  few  actions  recorded 
of  young  girls  so  generous  and  so  brave  as  the  rescue  of  her 
baby  sister  from  that  wild  band  by  Margaret  Schuyler.  Her 
answer  to  Meyer  had  also  alarmed  the  marauders ;  they 
paused  a  moment  in  their  plunder ;  the  voice  of  the  general 
was  heard  calling  in  a  loud  tone,  as  if  speaking  to  a  large 
party  of  men,  "  Come  on,  my  brave  fellows  !  Surround  the 
house ;  seize  the  villains  who  are  plundering !"  Anxious  to 
secure  the  booty,  which  was  very  valuable,  and  fearing  a 
rescue,  Meyer  and  his  gang  suddenly  retreated, — actually  put 
to  flight  by  the  general's  voice.  They  carried  off  a  large 
amount  of  plate,  which  was  never  recovered.  It  proved  the 
general's  ransom,  for  their  desire  to  secure  it  saved  him  from 
capture.  The  infant  so  nobly  rescued  by  her  sister  was 
Catharine  Schuyler,  who  died  at  Oswego,  the  widow  of  Major 
Cochran,  in  1858. 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER. 


109 


The  surrender  of  Cornwallis  in  October,  178 1,  was  the 
closing  scene  of  the  great  drama.  Then  came  the  peace  in 
1783.  The  life  of  General  Schuyler  was,  however,  scarcely 
less  active  than  during  the  war.  He  became  Surveyor-General 
of  the  State,  and  was  also  Indian  Commissioner.  At  the  adop- 
tion of  the  Constitution  in  1789  he  was  elected  to  the  Senate. 
His  political  influence  and  sound  judgment  are  well  known  to 
have  contributed  more  than  those  of  any  other  man  to  the 
code  of  laws  adopted  by  his  native  State.  But  the  labors 
which  especially  marked  the  closing  years  of  the  century 
were  connected  with  the  canals,  which  had  been  a  dream  of 
his  for  thirty  years.  In  1792  the  State  legislature  passed  a 
law  carrying  out  two  favorite  plans  of  his  own :  two  canals 
were  to  be  built,  one  to  open  navigation  between  Little  Falls 
and  Oneida  Lake,  the  other  to  unite  the  Upper  Hudson  and 
Lake  Champlain.  General  Schuyler  became  president  of  both 
companies.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  among  the  many 
guests  received  by  Mrs.  Schuyler  in  those  years  was  a  young 
French  emigre,  an  engineer  who  brought  letters  to  General 
Schuyler,  Marc  Isambert  Brunei,  who  was  employed  in  making 
surveys  for  the  new  canals.  Many  years  later  the  same  talent 
conceived  and  built  the  Thames  Tunnel. 

These  cares  and  interests  of  the  general  were  in  a  measure 
shared  by  Mrs.  Schuyler.  The  conversation  at  the  cheerful 
fireside  and  at  the  hospitable  table  now  turned  upon  surveys 
in  distant  wilds,  on  the  banks  of  the  Genesee,  on  the  Seneca, 
or  upon  locks  and  canals,  or  upon  practical  improvements  in 
agriculture.  Good  wife  as  she  was,  the  lady  gave  her  sym- 
pathies to  these  labors  of  her  husband,  and  took  pleasure  in 
doing-the  honors  of  her  house  to  the  many  different  guests 
brought  under  their  roof  by  the  general.  Her  children  were 
now  all  grown  up,  and  a  flock  of  grandchildren  were  gather- 
ing about  her.  To  all  these  she  was  very  dear.  As  she  ad- 
vanced in  life  she  became  less  active ;  she  grew  large  and 
stout.  But  the  sweet  voice,  the  gentle  manner,  the  pleasant 
smile,  were  still  there.  The  brilliant  sunshine  of  youth  may 
pass  away  with  years,  but  there  is  a  softened  glow  lingering 


no 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


over  the  close  of  a  well-spent  loving  life,  which  is  even  more 
precious.  It  was  remarked  by  those  who  knew  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler intimately  that  she  was  " 'much  loved  by  the  poor."  The  re- 
mark reveals  her  character.  There  are  many  who  are  kind  and 
liberal  to  the  poor;  there  are  few  who  really  win  their  love. 
She  herself  gave  not  only  alms  but  loving  sympathy  also, 
which  was  returned  with  affection. 

In  preparing  this  brief  sketch,  a  mere  outline  of  the  life  of 
a  faithful  American  wife  and  mother  of  the  past  century,  it 
has  been  a  matter  of  regret  that  no  letters  of  her  own  have 
been  preserved.  Probably  she  wrote  very  little.  This  fact  is 
characteristic  of  the  period  at  which  she  lived.  Few  Ameri- 
can women  at  that  day  wrote  easily,  fluently.  It  was  prob- 
ably something  of  a  task  to  write  even  to  the  husband  and 
children  she  loved  so  well ;  and  her  few  letters  may  have  been 
connected  with  family  matters,  considered  trifling  at  a  later 
day.  It  was  chiefly  business  letters  which  were  held  to  be  of 
lasting  value  at  that  period.  But  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler has  been  preserved  with  so  much  distinctness,  so  much 
affection,  by  her  family  and  friends,  that  we  receive  a  very 
clear  impression  of  her  sweet,  gracious,  womanly  character, — a 
character  which  also  commands  our  respect  from  its  elements 
of  energy  and  firmness.  Although  but  an  outline,  it  is  too 
pleasing  to  be  allowed  to  fade  utterly  away,  especially  as  hers 
was  a  life  so  closely  interwoven  with  events  of  great  public 
importance. 

Her  death  was  very  sudden.  She  died  of  apoplexy  early 
in  the  year  1803.  General  Schuyler  never  recovered  from 
the  bereavement.  He  lingered  for  a  time  in  feeble  health, 
tenderly  watched  and  nursed  by  his  youngest  daughter, — 
"  my  dear  Kitty,"  as  he  called  her,  the  child  rescued  from 
the  Indian  tomahawk.  He  died  in  1804,  after  the  fatigue  of 
going  over  the  old  battle-field  at  Saratoga  with  two  distin- 
guished French  travelers. 

Some  weeks  after  Mrs.  Schuyler's  death  he  wrote  to  a 
relative, — 

"  My  trial  has  been  severe.     I  shall  attempt  to  sustain  it 


MRS.  PHILIP  SCHUYLER.  UI 

with  fortitude.  I  have,  I  hope,  succeeded  in  a  degree  ;  but 
after  giving  and  receiving  for  nearly  half  a  century  a  series  of 
mutual  evidences  of  an  affection  and  a  friendship  which  in- 
creased as  we  advanced  in  life,  the  shock  was  great  and  sensi- 
bly felt  to  be  thus  suddenly  deprived  of  a  beloved  wife,  the 
mother  of  my  children,  and  the  soothing  companion  of  my 
declining  years." 

Susan  Fenimore  Cooper. 


MRS.   SAMUEL   RIPLEY. 


CHAPTER   I. 


In  gathering  up  the  treasures  of  the  last  century,  some 
record  has  been  desired  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Sarah  Alden 
Ripley,  of  Massachusetts. 

Mrs.  Ripley  was  known  and  revered  in  the  region  where 
she  lived,  as  one  who  combined  rare  and  living  knowledge  of 
literature  and  science  with  the  household  skill  and  habits  of 
personal  labor  needful  to  New  England  women  of  limited 
means,  and  with  the  tenderest  affection  and  care  for  the  young 
brothers  and  sisters  whom  her  mother's  delicate  health  and 
death  left  to.  her  charge,  and  for  the  seven  children  of  her  own 
marriage  who  grew  up  under  her  eye  in  the  country  parson- 
age at  Waltham.  To  the  ordinary  cares  of  her  station  were 
added  those  of  assisting  her  husband  in  the  cares  of  a  boys' 
boarding-school,  both  in  housekeeping  and  teaching.  These 
claims  were  met  with  disinterested  devotion.  And  amid  all 
the  activity  of  her  busy  life  the  love  and  habit  of  acquiring 
knowledge,  which  was  the  life  of  her  age  as  of  her  ardent 
youth,  kept  even  pace. 

To  a  friend  has  now  been  committed  the  trust  of  making 
some  selections  from  Mrs.  Ripley's  letters  written  in  youth, 
in  early  married  life,  in  the  later  days  when  her  children  had 
grown  up  and  rest  seemed  approaching,  and  in  the  last  days 
at  the  "Old  Manse"  in  Concord,  her  husband's  paternal  in- 
heritance, to  which  they  had  retired  in  the  spring  of  1846,  as 
a  paradise  of  rest  in  age.  The  letters  thus  arrange  themselves 
in  four  chapters.  As  a  continuous  history  of  events,  they 
leave  many  gaps  unfilled.     At  times  of  domestic  changes, 

8  113 


114      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

whether  joyful  or  sorrowful,  the  family,  never  widely  scattered, 
drew  at  once  together,  and  there  was  no  need  of  letters  in  the 
personal  presence  of  filial  and  friendly  sympathy.  The  friends 
also  who  were  dearest  to  her  youth  and  middle  life  were  all 
within  a  near  circle  of  residence.  Thus,  as  to  many  of  the 
most  interesting  events  of  her  life,  no  written  record  from  her 
hand  remains. 

No  better  sketch  of  Mrs.  Ripley  can  be  found  than  the 
memorial  written  by  Mr.  R.  W.  Emerson  at  the  time  of  her 
death.  This  will  be  found  upon  a  later  page.  Their  friend- 
ship had  begun  early  and  lasted  long.  Mr.  Emerson's  aunt, 
Miss  Mary  Emerson,  the  half-sister  of  Mr.  Ripley,  was  a 
woman  of  genius,  who  had  much  influence  in  the  early  train- 
ing of  Mr.  Emerson  and  his  brothers.  She  had  heard  of  the 
young  Sarah  Bradford  and  sought  her  out*  in  the  household 
retreat  in  Boston  where  she  devoted  to  study  the  time  un- 
claimed by  domestic  duties  ;  and  the  friendship  which  followed 
included  the  Emerson  childrenf  so  dear  to  the  elder  lady. 
After  Miss  Bradford's  marriage  the  claims  of  kindred  also 
brought  these  boys  to  their  uncle  Ripley's  house  in  school 
and  college  vacations,  and  the  intercourse  so  precious  to  both 
sides  was  never  interrupted  but  by  death. 

Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn,  who  in  Mrs.  Ripley's  later  years  at  Con- 
cord became  very  valuable  to  her  as  a  companion  in  study 
and  an  affectionate  minister  to  her  enjoyment  in  many  kind 
offices  of  friendship,  wrote  at  the  time  of  her  death  about  her 
early  studies  thus:  "It  should  be  remembered  that  in  the 
early  part  of  this  century,  when  Mrs.  Ripley  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  her  extensive  knowledge  of  languages,  of  philosophy 
and  literature,  the  aids  to  study  were  few  and  imperfect  in 


*  See  Mrs.  Ripley's  letter  to  Mr.  Simmons  of  October  7,  1844. 

f  The  names  of  the  Emerson  children,  excepting  two  who  died  very  young, 
were  William,  Ralph  Waldo,  Edward  Bliss,  Peter  Bulkeley,  and  Charles  Chauncy. 
Edward  and  Charles  died  in  early  manhood ;  they  were  young  men  of  the  greatest 
promise  :  their  death  is  commemorated  by  their  brother  in  his  poem  entitled 
"  Dirge."  In  the  "  May  Day  and  Other  Pieces"  is  another  tribute  to  the  memory 
of  Edward. 


MRS.  SAMUEL   RIPLEY.  115 

New  England.  A  good  dictionary  of  Latin  or  Greek  did  not 
exist  in  English;  editions  of  the  ancient  authors  were  rare  and 
often  very  poor,  while  of  the  modern  languages,  except  the 
French,  scarcely  anything  was  known  in  all  this  region.  But 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  did  not  prevent  Mrs.  Ripley  from 
acquiring  rapidly,  and  with  sufficient  correctness,  a  knowledge 
of  the  Latin,  Greek,  French,  and  Italian  languages,  and  sub- 
sequently the  German ;  with  the  literature  of  all  which  she 
became  familiar,  and  kept  up  this  familiarity  till  her  failing 
strength  made  study,  and  even  reading,  irksome." 

Wherever  it  is  possible,  the  editor  will  avail  herself  of  the 
reminiscences  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  friends  in  giving  such  ex- 
planation as  is  necessary  for  connecting  the  different  series  of 
letters  with  each  other.  But  the  letters  themselves  will  best 
report  the  life  of  the  writer. 

Sarah  Alden  Bradford  was  born  in  Boston,  July  31,  1793, 
and  was  the  eldest  child  of  Captain  Gamaliel  Bradford.  Two 
brothers  followed  her,  Gamaliel,  afterwards  a  well-known  phy- 
sician and  citizen  of  Boston,  and  Daniel,  who  studied  law,  and 
died  early  in  Mississippi.  Then  followed  two  sisters,  Martha, 
afterwards  the  wife  of  Dr.  Josiah  Bartlett,  of  Concord,  Massa- 
chusetts, and  Margaret,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Seth  Ames,  now  one  of 
the  justices  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court  of  Massachusetts. 
George,  her  youngest  brother,  whom  she  almost  wholly  edu- 
cated up  to  the  time  when  he  entered  Harvard  College,  and 
Hannah,  her  youngest  sister,  who  was  the  wife  and  is  now 
the  widow  of  the  late  Mr.  A.  H.  Fiske,  a  prominent  lawyer 
in  Boston,  completed  the  number  of  seven  children,  to  the 
three  youngest  of  whom  Sarah  stood  in  the  place  of  a  mother: 
her  own  children  were  not  nearer  to  her  heart.  Her  father, 
who  was  a  sea-captain,  was  often  absent  on  voyages,  and  her 
mother's  delicate  health  gave  to  the  eldest  daughter,  as  she 
grew  up,  a  large  share  in  the  care  of  this  numerous  family. 
The  youngest  brother  and  sister  still  survive. 

Sarah  attended  a  school  taught  by  Mr.  Cummings,  well 
known  in  days  long  past  as  the  author  of  a  school  geography, 
of  whom  she  speaks  in  one  of  her  latest  letters  as  "  my  old 


Il6      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

school- master,  to  whom  I  owe  the  foundation  of  all  I  know 
worth  speaking  of."  Her  teacher  asked  her  one  day  if  she 
would  like  to  study  Latin.  It  was  a  fortnight  before  she 
could  make  up  her  mind  to  ask  her  father's  leave,  but  one  day 
she  came  home  and  with  great  timidity  said,  "  Father,  may  I 
study  Latin  ?"  Her  father  laughed,  and  exclaimed,  "  A  girl 
study  Latin !  Yes,  study  Latin  if  you  want  to.  You  may 
study  anything  you  please."  This,  as  it  will  be  seen,  was 
opening  the  door  into  a  wide  field. 

Captain  Bradford's  father  and  other  relatives  lived  in  Dux- 
bury,  near  Plymouth.  In  her  occasional  visits  to  this  place 
Sarah  had  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with  Abba  Allyn, 
the  daughter  of  Dr.  Allyn,  the  minister  of  Duxbury.  He 
himself  took  an  especial  interest  in  his  daughter's  young 
friend,  to  which  she  never  ceased  to  respond  in  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment. The  girls  read  together,  and  explored  the 
woods  and  swamps  in  company,  looking  wistfully  at  the 
flowers  they  gathered,  longing  for  knowledge  to  detect  the 
laws  and  secrets  of  nature.  After  one  of  these  visits,  Sarah 
wrote  to  her  friend  Abba  a  formal  little  letter  proposing  a 
correspondence.  The  proposal  was  accepted,  and  the  first  se- 
lection from  Mrs.  Ripley's  letters  will  be  a  few  from  the  earlier 
ones  in  the  life-long  series  which  passed  between  the  two 
friends.  The  first  letter,  to  which  I  have  referred,  is  duly 
dated,  "  April  15th,  1809."  But  this  is  almost  the  only  date 
in  the  whole  series:  so  that  the  editor  can  only  guess  at  the 
order  in  which  the  letters  followed  each  other  by  the  increased 
freedom  of  the  style  and  handwriting,  and  by  the  order  of 
studies  and  topics,  when  a  new  book  rises  to  mark  the  prog- 
ress of  the  months ;  as  in  Dante's  pilgrimage  the  hours  and 
seasons  are  marked  only  by  the  succession  of  the  constella- 
tions. The  correspondence,  as  I  have  said,  began  in  1809. 
The  Bradford  family  afterwards  spent  a  year  in  Duxbury,  re- 
turning to  Boston  in  181 1.  After  that  time  the  letters  con- 
tinued with  confidence  and  affection  unabated,  and  the  friend- 
ship never  ceased  through  life. 


MRS.  SAMUKL  RIPLEY.  117 

MISS    BRADFORD   TO    MISS    ALLYN. 

[About  1809.] 

"  My  dear  Abba, — 

"  I  am  sorry  to  perceive  that  you  have  greatly  mistaken  the 
motive  which  has  induced  me  lately  to  mix  less  with  the  world 
than  heretofore.  You  ascribe  it  to  depression  of  mind,  for 
which  you  entreat  me  to  assign  a  reason.  You  are  much  de- 
ceived, my  friend.  God  has  continually  blessed  me  since  I  came 
into  this  world,  and  I  should  be  very  ungrateful  if  I  were  dis- 
contented or  unhappy.  He  has  given  me  life,  and  hereafter  I 
shall  be  accountable  to  him  for  the  manner  in  which  I  have 
improved  the  time  and  privileges  afforded  me.  At  present  I 
am  favored  with  the  means  of  acquiring  useful  knowledge. 
If,  instead  of  employing  the  season  of  youth  in  improving  my 
mind,  I  spend  it  in  idle  visiting,  in  preparing  for  balls  and  par- 
ties, neglecting  the  advantages  afforded  me,  can  I  reasonably 
expect  that  they  will  always  be  continued  to  me?  I  do  not 
intend  to  give  up  all  society;  I  only  intend  to  relinquish  that 
from  which  I  can  gain  no  good.  Be  assured  I  wish  to  conceal 
nothing  from  you,  and  if  I  were  in  affliction  your  participa- 
tion would  greatly  lessen  it.  Write  to  me  the  manner  in  which 
you  employ  your  time.  Your  papa  informed  me  you  had  be- 
come an  adept  in  spinning.  Have  you  begun  Virgil  ?  I  must 
bid  you  good-by,  my  dearest  and  best  friend,  and  it  is  my 
earnest  desire  that  you  may  be  happy  in  this  world  and  that 
which  is  to  come.     Don't  expose  this  letter. 

"S.  A.  B." 


"As  the  spring  advances  I  am  more  and  more  desirous  to  be 
with  you.  The  grass  in  our  yard  begins  to  look  green,  and 
the  lilac-trees  have  leaved.  We  consider  our  yard  and  garden 
quite  a  farm  in  comparison  with  the  yards  belonging  to  the 
new-fashioned  houses,  which  are  in  general  about  as  large  as 
your  back  room.  So  that,  although  I  am  not  in  the  country, 
I  am  better  off  than  many  of  my  neighbors.  Do  you  find 
any  pretty  wild  flowers?     If  you  have  never  examined  a  dan- 


Il8      WORTHY   WOMEN  Or   OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

delion  flower,  you  will  find  it  very  curious, — the  downy  wings 
of  the  seeds,  by  which  they  are  scattered  far  and  wide,  the 
perfect  uniformity  of  the  little  flowers,  each  with  its  pistil  and 
five  stamens,  united  by  the  anthers,  the  filaments  separate, 
almost  too  small  to  be  distinguished  with  the  naked  eye.  The 
same  order,  regularity,  and  beauty  are  visible  in  the  least  as 
in  the  greatest  works  of  creation.  Do  you  think  a  dandelion 
could  have  been  the  work  of  chance?  Surely  that  study  can- 
not be  entirely  useless  which  can  make  even  this  most  despised 
of  flowers  a  source  of  admiration  and  entertainment,  a  demon- 
stration of  the  hand  of  a  Creator.  I  saw  the  other  evening  in 
one  of  our  neighbors'  yards  a  Lombardy  poplar  in  full  bloom, 
a  sight  I  never  saw  before;  but,  as  my  face  was  swollen  with 
the  ague,  I  could  not  get  a  blossom.  I  believe  they  are  of 
the  same  class  as  the  balsam  poplar,  which  I  have  often  seen 
in  bloom.  Father  has  frequently  recommended  to  me  a  poem 
called  Darwin's  Botanic  Garden.  I  think  I  can  borrow  it  at 
Judge  Davis's;  and  I  am  determined  to  bring  it  to  Duxbury 
with  me,  that  we  may  enjoy  it  together." 


In  a  later  letter  she  says, — 

"There  are  to  be  botanical  lectures  next  winter  in  Boston, 
but  I  suppose  the  pine  woods  must  be  our  lecture-room,  and 
nature  our  herbalist." 


In  another  letter,  after  analyzing  for  her  friend  the  Linnaean 
System  and  Darwin's  Botanic  Garden,  her  last  book,  she  ends, 
"But  it  is  washing-day,  and  I  must  run  and  fold  my  clothes: 
so  good-by.  .  .  .  The  clothes  are  not  quite  dry,  so  here  I 
come  again.  I  thought  at  first  I  would  read  a  little;  but  when 
I  get  in  a  notion  of  writing  to  you  I  can  attend  to  nothing 
else  till  the  rage  is  over.  I  study  or  read  morning  and 
evening,  when  not  prevented  by  company.  How  we  might 
improve  these  long  winter  evenings  together!" 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


II9 


[1S09.] 

"  Your  letter  found  me  in  company  with  one  of  my  Greek 
acquaintance;  but  he  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  superior 
claims  of  friendship.  I  cannot  sufficiently  thank  you  for  it, 
affectionate  and  entertaining  as  it  was.  The  poem*  I  have 
long  wished  to  read,  written,  by  the  way,  by  the  biographer  of 
our  favorite  Cowper, — our  favorite,  I  say,  for  I  am  sure  you 
cannot  have  read  half  through  his  life  and  not  love  him  as 
well  as  I  do.  He  is  a  most  engaging  character.  Perhaps  you 
may  think  him  a  little  vain  in  making  his  own  compositions 
so  frequently  the  subjects  of  his  letters,  particularly  his  trans- 
lations of  Homer.  But  I  can  readily  find,  in  my  own  feelings 
an  excuse  for  him.  How  interested  I  feel  in  anything  you 
are  engaged  in !  How  eager  I  am  to  know  every  step  you 
take  in  Virgil,  etc. !  So  anxious  for  the  success  and  fame 
of  her  friend  was  Lady  Hesketh  that  he  well  knew  the  most 
minute  details  would  be  interesting  to  her.  ...  A  dreadful 
apprehension  of  having  forfeited  the  divine  favor  by  his  im- 
perfections (when  perhaps  there  was  never  a  man  who  had 
less  reason  for  such  a  fear)  seems  to  have  been  the  occasion 
of  that  melancholy  which  shaded  the  whole  course  of  his 
life  and  especially  obscured  the  end,  which  so  strongly 
awakens  the  feeling  of  sympathy.  Do  you  not  relish  much 
more  his  pleasing  descriptions  since  you  know  '  his  praise  of 
nature  most  sincere,  raptures  not  conjured  up  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  poetic  pomp,  but  genuine'  ?  I  am  delighted  to 
hear  you  do  not  desert  our  old  friend  Virgil.  You  need  not 
fear  I  shall  be  jealous  of  any  share  he  may  have  in  your 
friendship.  I  have  not  read  anything  new  since  I  wrote 
you,  but  jog  on  in  the  same  old  road.  I  have  finished  Homer's 
Odyssey,  and  wish  to  read  the  Iliad  very  much.  Your  papa 
has  one  with  a  Latin  translation,  and,  if  he  does  not  use  it  this 
winter,  by  lending  it  to  me  he  will  add  another  great  obliga- 
tion to  the  many  he  has  conferred  upon  me.  You  mentioned 
in  one  of  your  last  letters  an  abundance  of  new  story-books, 

*  Hayley's  "Triumphs  of  Temper." 


120      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

such  as  '  Vivian,'  etc.  I  hope  Daniel  will  read  some  of  them 
to  me  this  long  vacation,  that  I  may  be  able  in  company  to 
bear  some  part  in  the  conversation,  for  they  are  the  only  fash- 
ionable topics.  Dear  Abba,  since  I  wrote  you  I  have  com- 
menced acquaintance  with  a  Miss  Emerson,*  a  sister  of  our 
minister,  a  pious  and  sensible  woman,  between  thirty  and 
forty  years  of  age.  She  was  so  kind  as  to  make  the  first  ad- 
vances by  calling  on  me ;  and  from  her  society  I  expect  to 
derive  the  greatest  advantages :  she  appears  extremely  inter- 
ested in  the  religious  improvement  of  the  young.  When  I 
consider  what  a  price  there  is  put  in  my  hands  to  gain  wisdom, 
I  am  alarmed  at  the  little  progress  I  have  made  in  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  things  that  concern  my  eternal  peace.    Good-night. 

"  Your  friend,  Sarah." 


The  following  was  marked  by  Miss  Emerson,  "  First  letter 
of  her  childhood  in  friendship." 

MISS    BRADFORD    TO    MISS    EMERSON. 

[About  1S09.] 

"  Dear,  dear  Mary, — 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  hear  no  more  about  satiety  and  disgust 
of  life.  With  every  rising  dawn  your  idea  is  associated.  The 
day  no  longer  presents  in  prospect  an  unvaried  tasteless  round 
of  domestic  duties.  Bright  gleams  of  hope  illumine  the  dull 
perspective.  The  mellow  rays  of  the  declining  sun  sweep  the 
chords  of  love.  Oh  that  they  ceased  to  vibrate  with  the 
gentle  touch !  Your  idea  intrudes  too  often  on  the  hallowed 
hours.  But  it  will  not  be  always  thus.  The  affection  whose 
object  is  so  pure,  so  heavenly,  cannot,  will  not,  forever  militate 
with  devotion.  Once  convinced  the  chains  are  riveted,  suspi- 
cion, dread  to  have  disgusted  or  offended,  will  give  place  to 
calm  reposing  satisfaction.     How  delightful  the  thought  that 

*  See  Mrs.  Ripley's  letter  to  Mr.  Simmons  of  October  7,  1844,  for  an  account 
of  Miss  Emerson  and  of  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  121 

our  religion  sanctions  friendship!  How  does  worldliness  dry 
up  every  spring  of  pure  affection,  chill  every  generous,  glow- 
ing emotion !  I  was  bantered  a  little  at  tea  about  violent 
romantic  attachments.  I  was  bold  in  the  defense  of  disinter- 
ested friendship.  My  mother  considers  it  a  delusion,  innocent 
as  to  its  object,  rather  dangerous  as  to  its  effects,  making  me 
unsteady,  as  she  terms  it.  But  you  told  me  once  you  hated 
sentimental  epistles.  May  everything  that  can  make  life's 
journey  pleasant  be  yours  in  perfection  !" 


"  I  was  peaceably  poring  over  old  Josephus  when  your  affec- 
tionate letter  came.  Its  seal  was  broken  with  delightful  agi- 
tation. Poor  Josephus  !  I  am  afraid  he  will  be  obliged  to 
suspend  for  to-day  the  tedious  narrative  of  his  countrymen's 
seditions.  My  interest  in  him  increases  as  he  draws  near 
the  illustrious  era  beheld  in  prophetic  vision,  ushered  in  with 
seraphic  song.  .  .  .  The  Roman  annals  of  this  period  have 
for  me  an  amazing  interest.  I  have  them  from  the  hand  of  a 
master.  I  am  eagerly  looking  on  every  page  for  some  mention 
of  characters  enshrined  on  the  altar  of  Christianity.  .  .  .  My 
affection  for  you  has  given  a  new  tone  to  my  feelings  and 
animation  to  my  pursuits.  ...  I  want  you  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  my  old  friend  Lactantius.  He  lived  to  a 
great  age,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  clouds  that 
had  so  long  lowered  over  the  Christian  world  begin  to  break 
away.  It  was  the  last  burst  of  the  tempest  of  persecution 
that  provoked  his  elegant  defense.  His  style  is  very  clear, 
and  his  standard  of  morality  high  as  perfection  itself.  He  has 
some  faults,  is  often  fanciful  in  his  interpretation  of  Scripture 
language,  and  sometimes  shows  great  want  of  candor  in  in- 
terpreting the  moral  precepts  of  heathen  philosophy.  He 
seems  to  have  fallen  into  an  error  natural  to  the  early  age  of 
the  Church, — considers  poverty  and  persecution  necessary  to 
Christian  virtue.  Is  it  an  error?  Do  not  many  graces  imply 
a  state  of  suffering;?" 


122 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


MISS    BRADFORD   TO    MISS   ALLYN. 

"  Miss  Emerson  has  left  Boston  for  an  uncertain  time.  You 
know  how  I  dislike  writing;  yet  I  have  already  written  to  her. 
It  was  the  condition  on  which  I  am  to  expect  her  letters;  and 
if  they  are  of  as  much  benefit  to  me  as  I  hope  her  society  has 
been,  I  shall  be  abundantly  compensated.  Do  not  be  jealous 
of  her,  my  best  friend.  My  affection  for  you  and  her  are  very 
different:  there  is  too  much  of  reverential  respect  mingled 
with  the  former  to  admit  of  that  unreserved  confidence  which 
is  so  strong  a  bond  of  union  between  us.  Can  an  acquaint- 
ance of  a  few  months,  where  there  is  disparity  of  years  and 
difference  in  pursuits,  be  weighed  in  the  balance  with  a  friend- 
ship of  years,  cemented  by  union  in  studies  as  well  as  senti- 
ment?" 

Her  friend  indorses  the  following  letter,  "  This  letter  writ- 
ten when  she  was  seventeen." 

MISS    BRADFORD   TO    MISS    EMERSON. 

[iSlO.] 

"  Dear  Mary — 

"  I  have  begun  Stewart.  (Oh,  how  you  have  multiplied  my 
sources  of  enjoyment !)  By  bringing  into  view  the  various  sys- 
tems of  philosophers  concerning  the  origin  of  our  knowledge, 
he  enlarges  the  mind,  and  extends  the  range  of  our  ideas,  while 
he  traces  to  their  source  those  torrents  of  error,  skepticism, 
and  infidelity  that  have  for  ages  inundated  this  fair  field  of 
science ;  clearly  distinguishing  between  proper  objects  of  in- 
quiry and  those  that  must  forever  remain  inexplicable  to  man 
in  the  present  state  of  his  faculties.  Reasonings  from  induc- 
tion are  delightful.  I  have  read  but  few  works  on  these  sub- 
jects. Oh,  how  I  envy  the  scholar,  the  philosopher,  whose 
business,  whose  profession,  is  science!  Continually  making 
new  discoveries  in  this  boundless  region,  where  every  object 
bears  the  impress  of  Divinity,  Linnaeus  could  trace  with  equal 
wonder  and  delight  the  strokes  of  a  divine,  unrivaled  pencil, 
as  Newton  the  omnipotent  arm  that  first  gave  motion  to  the 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  123 

planetary  system.  Even  the  humble  dandelion  exhibits  an 
order  and  regularity  of  parts  admirable  as  the  harmony  of 
spheres.  Yet,  as  much  as  I  am  pleased  with  your  philosoph- 
ical speculations,  I  should  not  be  willing  to  renounce  for  them 
entirely  the  poets  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Opening  Virgil  the 
other  night  after  I  was  in  bed,  his  fine  description  of  vEneas's 
descent  into  the  lower  regions  held  imagination  entranced 
for  hours.  The  sombre  and  terrific  images  that  throng  the 
gloomy  portal,  the  turbid,  sedgy  stream,  the  supplications  of 
unburied  shades  that  hover  around  its  banks,  thick  as  au- 
tumnal leaves,  the  grim  boatman,  the  converse  of  ^Eneas  with 
the  spirits  of  departed  heroes,  the  expressive  look  and  manner 
of  his  injured  mistress,  described  in  all  the  majesty  of  Virgil's 
style,  wonderfully  entertain  the  fancy.  In  pathos  of  sentiment 
he  is  unrivaled  :  he  is  acquainted  with  every  avenue  to  the 
heart.  His  epic  abounds  with  the  most  affecting  pictures  of 
filial  love  and  heroic  friendship.  I  have  almost  a  mind  to  blot 
this  long  eulogium.  I  am  continually  introducing  you  to  one 
or  another  of  my  old  friends,  that  you  do  not  care  a  fig  for, 
who  meet  with  so  much  more  agreeable  society  of  your  own 
age.  I  am  afraid  you  will  never  be  rid  of  their  intrusions  till 
you  absolutely  command  them  to  stay  at  home.  Do  call  me 
a  good  girl  for  writing  again  so  soon.     Good-by. 

"  Yours  with  affection,  Sarah." 


"  Dear  Mary,— 

"  I  have  just  received  your  valuable  letter,  and  would  answer 
it  while  warm  with  gratitude  for  the  affectionate  interest  it  ex- 
presses in  my  welfare.  Your  caution  against  an  undue  devo- 
tion to  literary  pursuits  is,  I  fear,  too  necessary.  Perhaps  not 
more  time  is  allotted  to  them  than  conscience  would  permit 
for  innocent  amusements.  But  their  dominion  over  the  affec- 
tions is  the  danger.  I  fear,  if  called  to  relinquish  them  en- 
tirely or  desert  some  positive  duty,  the  sacrifice  would  be 
made  with  reluctance.  Yet,  when  I  experience  how  much 
more  easy  is  the  transition  to  serious  meditation  from  an 
evening  spent  in  study  than  one  spent  in  society,  where  vanity 


124      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

may  have  been  excited  or  pride  flattered,  I  am  inclined  to 
consider  them,  if  not  directly  tending  to  produce,  at  least  not 
unfavorable  to,  piety.  How  ready  we  are  to  excuse  a  favorite 
passion !  It  is  my  constant  prayer  that  my  affections  may  be 
purified,  and  with  advantages  for  improvement  my  sphere  of 
usefulness  may  also  be  enlarged.  My  friend,  I  should  not 
write  thus  to  any  one  but  yourself.  I  am  almost  ashamed 
when  I  see  that  I  have  as  yet  been  the  only  subject.  Do  tell 
me  if  you  think  me  vain  or  presuming. 

"...  You  are  the  only  person  who  ever  thought  me  of 
any  consequence,  and  I  am  pretty  well  convinced  other  folks 
are  more  than  half  right.  I  want  you  to  love  me,  but  you 
must  do  as  you  please  about  it." 


MISS    BRADFORD    TO    MISS   ALLYN. 

"  I  have  been  so  busily  engaged  since  mother  has  been  at 
Duxbury  in  mending  old  clothes  and  making  cambric  bonnets, 
that  I  have  not  had  time  to  read,  write,  nor  scarcely  think, 
except  about  my  work.  What  will  you  say, — that  I  have  im- 
proved or  degenerated,  if  I  tell  you  I  have  spent  almost  a  fort- 
night in  making  two  bonnets  ?  I  am  afraid  if  you  knew  how 
much  anxiety  and  fretting  they  have  occasioned,  you  would 
be  at  no  loss  in  pronouncing  judgment.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I 
have  acquired  the  fame  of  being  quite  a  tasteful  milliner,  and, 
if  you  regard  the  time  and  pains  bestowed,  I  think  there  was 
never  any  fame  of  the  kind  more  justly  earned." 


"You  don't  want  to  know  what  I  am  doing,  but  I  will  tell 
you  to  plague  you.  I  study  now  and  then  a  little  Latin.  In 
the  daytime  while  I  sit  at  work  Daniel  reads  some  entertain- 
ing book  to  me,  and  in  the  evening  when  there  is  no  com- 
pany I  usually  study  a  chapter  in  the  Greek  Testament.  I  dare 
not  tell  you  how  much  of  my  time  I  spend  in  playing  with 
Hannah,  who  grows  a  fine  little  girl :  you  don't  know  how 
much  we  all  love  her.     Do  write  to  me  soon  and  send  me 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  1 25 

a  translation  of  some  part  of  the  yEneid,  written  handsomely 
on  a  neat  piece  of  paper.  Have  you  begun  the  History  of 
Rome?  Remark  particularly  the  events  happening  about 
Cicero's  time.  It  is  my  favorite  history.  I  expect  it  will  afford 
us  a  fund  of  conversation  when  we  meet  again. 

"  Dear  Abba,  we  go  through  the  same  routine  of  business 
here, — wash  Monday,  iron  Tuesday,  etc.  The  description  of 
one  week  would  serve  for  all  the  rest  in  the  year;  no  variety, 
except  of  books,  of  which  (as  is  usually  the  case  in  vacation) 
we  have  abundance.  Daniel  comes  home  loaded  with  new 
ones,  French  and  English.  Among  the  former  I  find  Vol- 
taire's Age  of  Louis  XIV.,  valuable  both  from  the  style  in 
which  it  is  written  and  the  important  events  it  relates.  What 
would  you  say  if  I  were  to  tell  you  I  have  begun  five  different 
books  at  once  ?  I  am  afraid  the  little  leisure  I  have,  divided 
among  so  many  objects,  will  not  be  very  profitably  employed. 
I  am  reading  Juvenal,  a  Roman  satirist,  who  is  charming  when 
he  lashes  those  follies  that  are  common  among  mankind  in 
every  age ;  but  when  he  attacks  those  grosser  ones  of  his  own 
which  are  now  'not  so  much  as  named  among  us'  he  is  often 
so  indelicate  that  I  am  obliged  to  pass  over  a  great  deal.  No 
one  can  read  the  Satires  of  Juvenal,  or  St.  Paul's  picture  of 
his  age  in  the  first  chapter  of  Romans,  and  not  perceive  how 
greatly  Christianity  has  refined  the  tone  of  morality,  though 
much  of  her  genuine  influence  be  diminished  by  the  bad  pas- 
sions of  men. 

"  I  have  undertaken  to  instruct  the  little  ones  this  winter, 
and  now  begin  to  realize  what  has  been  your  task  for  a  year 
or  two  past.  They  hate  the  Latin  grammar,  but  in  geography 
we  go  on  more  smoothly :  they  are  pleased  to  trace  countries, 
rivers,  etc.,  on  the  map,  and  George's  eyes  will  sparkle  when 
he  hears  any  place  mentioned  in  conversation  whose  situation 
he  is  acquainted  with.  To  grammar  they  attach  no  kind  of 
idea,  and  I  cannot  conceive  that  its  study  can  be  useful  in  any 
other  way  than  forming  a  habit  of  attention.  I  have  been 
reading  to-day  part  of  a  charming  satire  where  Juvenal  paints 
glaringly  the  mistakes  of  men  in  their  search  after  happiness. 


126      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

The  book  lies  before  me,  with  the  leaf  turned  down :  I  long  to 
read  it  to  you,  it  is  so  natural.  Where  do  you  think  I  am 
writing  to  you  ?  In  my  own  chamber,  which,  by  the  means  of 
a  little  shoemaker's  stove*  fixed  here  this  afternoon,  is  as  warm 
as  an  oven.  Some  sweet  ingredient  is  each  day  mingled  in 
my  cup.  For  all  these  blessings  I  cannot  be  grateful  enough 
to  kind  friends,  and  to  Him  who  has  given  me  these  friends. 
Good-night,  says  one  who  loves  you  dearly. 

"  Sarah  Bradford." 


"  I  have  not  read  much  this  vacation,  though  French  books 
have  abounded,  for  I  spent  most  of  my  leisure  with  Theocritus, 
an  old  Grecian,  the  father  of  pastoral  poetry.  I  like  many  of 
his  Idyllia  better  than  Virgil's  Bucolica.  He  is  much  more 
natural,  and  to  him  Virgil  is  indebted  for  many  of  his  most 
beautiful  ideas.  There  is  so  much  of  nature  in  the  Idyllium 
I  am  now  studying,  a  dialogue  between  two  women  on  their 
way  to  some  public  show,  that  I  long  to  recite  it  to  you,  as  I 
do  a  thousand  other  things  I  meet  with  in  the  day." 


"  The  comet  is  running  off  very  fast;  I  shall  be  sorry  to  bid 
him  good-by  forever.  I  seldom  go  to  bed  without  looking 
to  see  if  the  old  serpent's  head  is  still  above  the  horizon." 


"  I  am  very  much  interested  in  Tacitus  at  present.  He  has 
a  manner  so  pleasant  of  telling  his  stories,  he  is  as  interesting 
as  a  novelist.  I  am  impatient  for  the  time  when  you  shall 
read  him.  I  am  sometimes  almost  tempted  to  wish  I  knew 
nothing  about  Latin,  and  had  not  a  taste  for  studies  that  sub- 
ject me  to  so  many  inconveniences  ;  for  the  time  I  now  employ 

*  A  friend  in  Boston  writes,  "  I  find  by  inquiry  among  the  old  stove-makers 
that  a  •  shoemaker's  stove'  was  well  known  as  a  cylinder  of  sheet  iron  laid  hori- 
zontally, flattened  on  the  upper  side,  with  a  door  at  one  end  and  a  funnel  at  the 
other." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


127 


in  study  I  should  then  spend  in  reading  books  which  would 
enable  me  to  join  in  the  conversation  and  partake  of  the  pleas- 
ures of  fashionable  ladies,  but  now  I  am  as  careful  to  conceal 
my  books  and  as  much  afraid  of  being  detected  with  them  as 
if  I  were  committing  some  great  crime." 


So  this  fair,  fragrant  lily  grew  up  in  the  grass  of  common 
daily  life,  pure,  peaceable,  wise,  lovely,  of  good  report:  "if 
there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,"  she  was  not 
found  wanting.  No  desire  to  evade  the  lowliest  household 
task  which  duty  or  affection  laid  upon  her  ever  shows  itself 
in  her  letters.  And  the  same  lowly,  sincere  acceptance  of  the 
daily  order  of  Providence  in  life  remains  characteristic  to  the 
last. 

The  War  of  18 12-14,  and  other  causes,  brought  such  in- 
terruptions to  her  father's  occupations — which  were  still  con- 
nected with  commerce,  although  he  had  left  the  sea  about 
the  year  1808 — that  it  became  expedient  for  him,  in  18 13,  to 
accept  the  office  of  Warden  of  the  State  Prison  in  Charles- 
town.  After  some  time  he  removed  his  family  from  Boston 
to  that  town.  But  Sarah's  intimacy  with  Miss  Emerson  and 
her  young  nephews  was  not  broken  by  this  new  necessity  of 
crossing  a  bridge.  Their  communication  by  letters,  as  will 
have  been  seen,  had  begun  early,  and  it  was  still  continued 
whenever  the  friends  were  separated. 

miss  bradford  to  miss  emerson. 
"  Dear  Friend, — 

"I  spent  last  night  with  your  little  darling.*  We  vied  with 
each  other  in  telling  stories :  the  little  budget  of  learning  and 
fancy  was  all  emptied,  nor  were  its  contents  so  inconsiderable 
as  the  aunt  would  sometimes  represent  them. — I  have  before 
me  a  rare  banquet  of  reason  and  taste,  if  I  had  but  leisure  to 
enjoy  it, — Butler,  Tasso,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides.     You  will 

*  It  is  not  known  which  of  the  nephews  is  here  referred  to. 


128       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

enjoy  Butler's  Analogy  with  me.  I  believe  I  told  you  I  have 
Milton's  minor  poems.  With  what  majesty  and  sublimity  his 
old-fashioned  epithets  grace  his  style!  They  remind  one  of 
the  rich  brocades  and  substantial  ornaments  of  our  grand- 
mothers, contrasted  with  the  gauze  and  ribbons  of  modern 
bards.  In  the  second  book  of  Paradise  Lost,  Satan's  journey 
through  the  realms  of  Chaos  and  old  Night, — one  knows  not 
which  most  to  admire,  the  sublimity  of  his  thoughts,  or  their 
expressive  garb  of  diction  : 

'  Who  shall  tempt  with  wandering  feet 
The  dark,  unbottomed,  infinite  abyss, 
And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out 
His  uncouth  way,  or  spread  his  aery  flight, 
Upborne  with  indefatigable  wings, 
Over  the  vast  abrupt.' 

"  Every  word  is  an  idea,  and  an  idea  it  seems  no  other  word 
could  so  forcibly  express.  How  could  Johnson  talk  about 
blank  verse  being  unfit  for  English  epic?  Your  friend  E.  says 
he  has  colored  our  theology.  No  wonder!  Poets  were  the 
mythologists  of  ancient  days.  Inspiration  was  attributed  as 
their  peculiar  gift,  and,  in  their  language,  for  poet  and  prophet 
one  word  sufficed. 

"  Why  can't  you  be  disinterested  enough,  after  you  have 
inhaled  the  fragrance  of  autumnal  wild  flowers,  to  press  some 
of  them  for  me  ?  Taylor's  Holy  Dying  will  be  just  the  book 
to  entomb  withering  beauty.  The  modes  of  decease,  too,  in 
the  vegetable  world  are  not  destitute  of  variety:  the  green 
brier  which  taints  the  gale  while  it  lives,  and  loses  when  dry 
its  offensive  odor,  may  comment  on  'the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling;'  the  fragrance  of  the  faded  rose  is  a  good  name 
left  behind;  and  the  pappous  tribe  go  off  on  gossamer  wings 
of  immortality.  Do  write,  whether  consistent  or  inconsistent 
with  your  pursuits:  in  the  latter  case  I  make  the  appeal  to 
benevolence. 

"  Yours  most  affectionately,  Sarah." 


AIRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


129 


Among  the  letters  to  Miss  Emerson  I  find  one  addressed 
to  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  then  eleven  years  old, — beginning 
with  a  translation  from  Virgil,  which  she  challenges  him  to 
finish: 

MISS    BRADFORD    TO    RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON. 

1814. 

"  My  dear  young  Friend, — 

*  ********** 

"You  love  to  trifle  in  rhyme  a  little  now  and  then  :  why  will 
you  not  continue  this  versification  of  the  fifth  bucolic?  You 
will  answer  two  ends,  or,  as  the  old  proverb  goes,  kill  two 
birds  with  one  stone, — improve  in  your  Latin,  as  well  as  in- 
dulge a  taste  for  poetry.  Why  can't  you  write  me  a  letter  in 
Latin  ?  But  Greek  is  your  favorite  language :  epistola  in 
lingua  GrcEcd  would  be  still  better.  All  the  honor  will  be  on 
my  part,  to  correspond  with  a  young  gentleman  in  Greek. 
Only  think  of  how  much  importance  I  shall  feel  in  the  literary 
world.  Tell  me  what  most  interests  you  in  Rollin ;  in  the 
wars  of  contending  princes,  under  whose  banner  you  enlist, 
to  whose  cause  you  ardently  wish  success.  Write  me  with 
what  stories  in  Virgil  you  are  most  delighted :  is  not  that 
a  charming  one  of  the  friendship  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus?  I 
suppose  you  have  a  Euryalus  among  your  companions ;  or 
don't  little  boys  love  each  other  as  well  as  they  did  in  Virgil's 
time  ?  How  beautifully  he  describes  the  morning  !  Do  write 
to  your  affectionate  friend,  Sarah." 

Thus  adjured,  her  young  friend  returns  in  answer  a  ful- 
fillment of  the  task  assigned  him,  in  a  translation  of  the  fifth 
bucolic  from  the  nineteenth  to  the  thirty-fifth  line : 

May  6,  1814. 
"  Mop.     Turn  now,  O  youth,  from  your  long  speech  away ; 
The  bower  we've  reached  recluse  from  sunny  ray; 
The  Nymphs  with  pomp  have  mourned  for  Daphnis  dead ; 
The  hazels  witnessed,  and  the  rivers  fled. 
The  wretched  mother  clasped  her  lifeless  child, 
And  gods  and  stars  invoked  with  accents  wild. 
Daphnis !  the  cows  are  not  now  led  to  streams 
Where  the  bright  sun  upon  the  water  gleams, 
9 


130 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Neither  do  herds  the  cooling  river  drink, 

Nor  crop  the  grass  upon  the  verdant  brink. 

O  Daphnis !   both  the  mountains  and  the  woods, 

The  Punic  lions,  and  the  raging  floods, 

All  mourn  for  thee,  for  thee  who  first  did  hold 

In  chariot-reins  the  spotted  tiger  bold. 

Daphnis  the  Bacchanalian  chorus  led, 

He  placed  himself  at  the  mad  dancers'  head. 

'Twas  Daphnis  who  with  beauteous  fingers  wove 

The  stems  of  leaves  he  gathered  from  the  grove. 

As  the  great  beauty  of  a  tree  is  seen 

From  vines  entwining  round  its  pleasant  green, 

As  vines  themselves  in  grapes  their  beauty  find, 

As  the  fair  bull  of  all  the  lowing  kind, 

As  standing  corn  cloth  grace  the  verdant  fields, 

So  to  thy  beauty  every  rival  yields." 


MISS    BRADFORD   TO    MISS    EMERSON. 

"  Charlestown,  Nov.  9th,  1814. 

"  Dear  Friend, — 

"  You  will  have  me  write — what  ?  the  interesting  detail  of 
mending,  sweeping,  teaching?  What  amusement  can  you 
reasonably  require  at  the  hand  of  a  being  secluded  in  a  back 
chamber,  with  a  basket  of  stockings  on  one  side,  and  an  old 
y  heathen  on  the  other  ?  Musty!  reiterates  father  Homer, 
ning  through  his  gilt  cover.  .  .  .  Well,  dear  Mary,  if 
you  will  have  aught  of  me  this  evening,  you  must  be  content 
to  pass  it  with  Ariosto  or  Tasso,  for  we  are  inseparable.  .  .  . 
Ariosto  gives  free  rein  to  an  imagination  luxuriant,  wild, 
brilliant  as  his  own  enchanted  domes  with  airy  touch  that 
fancy  fires;  Tasso's  genius  chastised  by  correctness  of  taste 
appears  in  picturesque  description,  accurate  delineation  of 
character,  various  and  entertaining  incident.  Novelty  bestows 
their  charm  on  visions  of  unrestrained  fancy,  but  nature 
pleases  always.  The  gondoliers  of  Venice,  their  oars  beat- 
ing time,  are  heard  nightly  chanting  Tasso's  stanzas, — rarely 
Ariosto's.  The  poet  of  nature  is  a  practical  metaphysician, 
acquainted  as  it  were  by  inspiration  with  those  combinations 
of  passions  and  affections  common  to  our  race,  that  form  all 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  131 

the  varieties  of  individual  character, — skilled  to  touch  those 
delicate  strings  of  sentiment  that  find  concordant  notes  in 
every  soul.  Our  age,  I  believe,  consents  to  place  the  English 
epic  poet  in  the  niche  with  Homer;  Tasso  dares  not  aspire  so 
high,  yet  (though  never  in  sublimity)  in  beauty  of  description 
he  might  dispute  the  palm  with  Milton  ;  and  even  this  tower- 
ing genius  sometimes  condescends  to  borrow  a  fine  simile 
from  his  Italian  predecessor. 

"I  dispatched  a  letter  by  post  this  morning:  this  is  for  a 
private  conveyance;  George  stands  waiting  with  his  Homer; 
Betsey  teasing  to  know  how  the  meat  is  to  be  dissected ;  the 
wind  blowing  books  and  papers  Jn  every  direction;  but  ca- 
coetlies  scribendi, — I  keep  on.  '  Write,  if  consistent  with  your 
pursuits.'  You  will  be  obliged,  when  tired  of  paying  postage 
and  breaking  seals,  to  explain  yourself  in  more  direct  terms." 


MISS    BRADFORD    TO    MISS   ALLYN. 

"  Charlestown,  April  19th,  1815. 


ive  been 

tleJI^ 


"Dear  Abba, — 

"  I  had  hoped  our  next  communication  would  have  been 
oral,  but,  as  the  Fates  do  not  seem  disposed  to  exte 
thread  to  Duxbury,  I  come  again  in  the  form  of  episth 
How  is  it  with  Greek,  Latin,  and  French?  Have  you  con- 
quered Sallust?  and  do  you  meditate  an  attack  on  Horace  next? 
If  this  is  your  intention,  you  may  prepare  for  a  tight  conflict, 
for  it  is  something  more  than  play,  even  after  Tacitus  has  nerved 
the  arm  and  exercised  the  skill.  This  last  waits  your  command. 
Your  friend  is  listening  again  to  the  Doric  muse  of  Theocritus, 
and  anticipating  the  period  when  we  shall  enjoy  her  harmony 
in  company.  Virgil  is  happier  than  Thomson  in  the  picturesque 
of  poetry:  the  dazzling  splendor  of  the  latter  blends  his  ima- 
gery in  indistinct  confusion,  while  Virgil's  expressive  diction 
throws  a  soft  shade  about  his 

'jam  summa  procul  villarum  culmina  fumant 
Majoresque  cadunt  altis  de  montibus  umbras,' 


I32       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

and  marks  each  object  with  distinctness.  Theocritus  excels 
them  both  in  this  master-art  of  description.  Vivid  conception 
of  the  grand  and  beautiful  in  nature,  and  a  talent  of  discrimi- 
nating selection,  are  the  gifts  of  the  poetic  imagination.  Who 
cannot  measure  a  verse  and  conclude  it  with  the  jingle  of 
rhyme  ?  but  to  see  with  a  poet's  eye  and  color  with  a  poet's 
pencil — hie  labor  est  /" 


"  March  19th. 

"  My  dear  Friend, — 

"  We  have  been  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  German  gram- 
mar for  the  last  week ;  have  the  promise  of  books,  but  can 
procure  no  dictionary;  transition  rather  harsh  from  Italian,  in 
which  every  word  ends  with  a  vowel,  to  consonant  upon  con- 
sonant in  schramme  and  geschwult.  One  meets  in  limine primo 
with  many  words  like  the  English,  which  is  accounted  for  by 
the  Teutonic  derivation  of  both.  Mme.  de  Stael  says  that  it, 
the  German,  resembles  the  Greek  language  in  its  construction  ; 
which  is  certainly  observable  in  the  number  of  its  declensions 
and  the  variations  of  its  articles.  Perhaps  the  similarity  of 
structure  may  be  accounted  for  by  peculiar  circumstances  in 
the  early  state  and  progress  of  the  two  nations.  Homer  pre- 
sents us  with  a  picture  of  the  primeval  polity  and  manners  of 
his  country,  numerous  independent  tribes,  each  electing  its 
own  chief,  dignified  in  heroics  with  the  royal  title,  frequently 
embroiled  in  petty  contests  with  each  other,  all  uniting  for 
the  purpose  of  public  defense  or  retaliation.  In  this  state 
they  continue  to  make  progress  in  arts  and  civilization,  un- 
conquered  by  any  foreign  power,  till  the  memorable  invasion 
of  the  Persians  serves  but  to  exercise  their  military  talents  and 
confirm  the  national  spirit  of  freedom.  Tacitus  gives  nearly 
the  same  account  of  the  manners  of  ancient  Germany,  which, 
however,  is  but  a  general  description  of  the  early  history  of 
every  nation,  the  natural  or  rather  the  simple  form  of  govern- 
ment founded  on  the  universally  acknowledged  right  of  pa- 
rental authority.     Germany  seems  neither  to  have  been  civil- 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


133 


ized  nor  corrupted  by  its  intercourse  with  the  Roman  soldiery; 
the  regular  construction  of  its  language  and  the  gradual  re- 
finement of  its  manners  to  have  been  its  own  work, — like  those 
of  Greece,  the  natural  progress  of  society.  .  .  .  Perhaps  I  shall 
tell  you  when  I  know  more  of  the  crooked  letters  the  analogy 
between  the  two  languages  is  as  imaginary  as  the  attempt  to 
account  for  it  is  fanciful.  And  now  we  come  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  to  thank  you  for  your  entertaining  letter,  to  entreat  you 
not  to  sit  up  too  late  nor  rise  too  early,  not  to  wet  your  feet 
or  fatigue  yourself  through  too  violent  exercise;  in  short,  to 
take  care  of  your  health.  I  suppose  by  this  time  the  cpigcca 
rcpens  begins  to  peep  through  the  withered  leaves.  Do  press 
me  a  bunch,  as  I  have  never  examined  it  particularly. 

"  Wedn.  week. — A  German  dictionary  !  We  begin  to  think 
our  own  language  has  the  best  claim  to  relationship  to  the 
German :  the  verb  is  commonly  the  concluding  word  in  the 
sentence,  which  will  make  it  fine  for  poetry.  You  do  not  tell 
me  where  to  find  you  in  Greek.  You  will  probably  begin  the 
Iliad  after  '  Minora.'  I  long  to  hear  what  you  think  of  the 
venerable  (Samian  or  Chian)  bard.  Has  not  Tacitus  yet  de- 
scribed anything  worthy  of  a  mark  ?  In  May  I  am  to  see 
your  mother  and  yourself.     Do  not  disappoint 

"  S.  A.  B." 

"  There  is  indeed  a  striking  analogy  between  the  German 
and  Greek  in  the  number  of  compounded  words:  abstract  and 
general  terms  are  composed  of  words  expressing  the  simple 
ideas  included,  and  thus  explain  themselves  without  definition. 
From  this  peculiarity  the  Greek  has  become  the  source  from 
which  every  modern  science  has  drawn  its  nomenclature;  and 
indeed  it  must  be  a  marked  feature  in  every  idiom  which, 
without  being  indebted  to  foreign  or  ancient  languages,  has 
grown  out  of  the  necessities  and  improved  with  the  taste  and 
science  of  the  age.  We  are  now  laboring  at  one  of  Klop- 
stock's  dramas,  the  subject  of  which  is  the  famous  destruction 
by  the  Cherusci  of  Varro's  three  legions,  whose  remains  were 
afterward  found  in  the  sacred  forests  of  the  Germans  by  Ger- 


134 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


manicus's  army, — which  Tacitus  finely  describes,  I  think,  in 
his  first  book.  .  .  .  My  mother  is  very  sick  to-day,  and  I  have 
cake  in  the  oven  to  take  care  of:  so  good-by. — Saturday. — 
George  has  been  reciting  from  one  of  Sallust's  prefaces. 
What  a  philosopher  he  would  fain  be  !  he  has  moralized  us  all 
to  sleep.  His  motto,  'Nobilitas  sola  est  atque  wiica  virtus',  and 
his  inference,  of  course,  that  it  is  better  to  be  an  historian  than 
a  consul.  He  traces  with  a  masterly  hand  the  causes  of  great 
revolutions  and  events  to  the  secret  passions  of  the  human 
heart.  He  can  draw  a  striking  portrait — witness  Jugurtha's  ; 
but  how  insufferably  affected  in  style  !" 


TO    MISS    ALLYN. 


"  Do  you  read  the  Greek  Testament?  It  will  take  many  a 
rainy  Sunday  to  exhaust  the  new  ideas  one  may  acquire  by 
divesting  one's  self  of  the  prejudices  of  education  and  the 
peculiar  sanctity  distant  and  superstitious  time  has  thrown 
around  the  epistolary  parts  of  these  records  of  our  faith ;  with 
a  distinct  idea  of  the  character  of  their  author  to  place  our- 
selves at  Corinth,  Athens,  or  Jerusalem,  as  they  really  existed 
in  the  time  of  the  apostle, — not  as  seen  with  the  glass  of  faith 
through  the  long  postern  of  eighteen  centuries;  to  find  full  of 
interesting  meaning,  passages  which  appear  obscure,  extrava- 
gant, or  contradictory  to  those  who  receive  every  epistle  as 
applicable  in  toto  to  the  Church  at  the  present  day." 


The  "  having  picked  up  Lowth's  Isaiah"  is  the  occasion  of 
a  lively  statement  of  "the  general  identification  of  poet  and 
prophet  among  ancient  nations.  It  was  natural,"  she  adds, 
"  to  ascribe  to  supernatural  influence  the  utterance  of  genius 
which  untaught  by  man  soared  far  above  the  common  level, 
and  the  solitary  taste  of  the  bard  for  nature  in  her  sublime 
and  awful  attitudes  might  have  strengthened  the  persuasion. 

Ztbq  ds  dewv  dyoprf;  Ttoirjiraro  xtpray.ipau^oq 
dxpordrrj  xoputprj  izokudeipddoq  OuXu/jlsoio. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


135 


".  .  .  What  of  all  this  ?  I  was  going  to  add,  I  know  not 
what,  about  divine  truth  coming  with  superior  authority  from 
lips  already,  without  the  evidence  of  miracles,  believed  to  be 
touched  with  celestial  fire." 


"  Brilliant  imagination  is  all  Ariosto  has  to  boast,  but  so 
wild  and  extravagant  as  rather  to  astonish  and  entertain  than 
to  interest  the  feelings.  Sympathy  seldom  goes  beyond  the 
bounds  of  nature." 


"  We  are  expecting  you  daily.  When  you  come  you  shall 
be  treated  to  a  peep  at  Herodotus  in  green  and  gold  :  '  dulcis 
et  fusus  et  candidus  Herodotus'  Margaret  is  waiting  to  say 
her  lesson.     Do  make  haste, — May  is  almost  past." 


"  I  have  found  a  French  work  on  chemistry  and  natural  his- 
tory in  five  volumes,  quite  elementary,  perfectly  intelligible, 
and  am  up  to  the  mind's  elbows  in  carbon." 


After  comparing  the  style  of  Cicero  with  that  of  Tacitus,  she 
says, — 

"  A  nation's  taste  as  well  as  literature  has  its  rise  and  de- 
cline. It  seems  to  be  the  fate  of  humanity  that,  arrived  at  the 
height  of  eminence  in  any  attainment,  it  must  begin  to  descend 
again  ere  it  has  time  to  view  the  goodly  prospect.  Happily, 
the  heights  of  natural  science  are  '  Alps  on  Alps.' " 


"  My  dear  Friend, — 

"  You  have  become  Tacitus  ad  unguent.  Excuse  me  if 
once  and  again  I  break  in  on  your  retirement,  disturb  your 
reverie,  or  add  a  provoking  third  to  your  society.  What  a 
striking  feature  in  the  delineation  of  Tiberius's  character  are 
those  ambiguous  letters  to  the  Senate, — the  arbitrary  tyrant 


136      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

under  the  specious  garb  of  deference  to  pristine  manners ! 
Gothic  ignorance,  or  Father  Time's  more  barbarous  hand,  has 
provokingly  made  bonne  prise  of  some  dozen  pages  in  the 
latter  part  of  this  Emperor's  history :  this  gap  is  admirably 
supplied  by  Juvenal's  tenth  satire. 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  a  new  Delphini  edition  of  Juvenal, 
with  notes  explanatory  to  every  sentence ;  at  your  service,  of 
course.  It  will  be  hard  labor,  but  in  a  diamond  mine.  The 
originality  of  his  ideas  will  surprise  and  the  fine  strokes  of 
nature  will  delight  you.  The  poet  of  genius  who  can  distin- 
guish between  artificial  manners  modified  by  local  and  occa- 
sional circumstances,  and  those  genuine  springs  of  feeling  and 
principles  of  action  which  mark  man's  fraternity  to  man,  writes 
for  every  age, — raises  a  monument  to  his  fame  ' pcrennhis  cere! 
Novelty  and  a  splendid  imagination  may  throw  a  momentary 
halo  around  forms  unnatural  and  extravagant ;  but  the  emo- 
tion of  surprise  is  transient,  and  it  can  never  boast  the  charm 
of  sympathy.  Nature  speaks  to  every  heart ;  we  view  the 
pictures  of  antiquity  which  her  pencil  traces,  with  the  traveler's 
delight  who  recognizes  well-known  features  in  a  distant  land: 
they  please  if  common ;  but  if  genius  animate  them,  what  is 
the  emotion ! 

"  Your  Greek  was  grateful  as  a  milestone  on  a  long  journey 
to  mark  the  distance  gone ;  as  to  its  critical  merit,  you  are  as 
well  qualified  to  judge  as  your  humble  servant,  who  blesses 
her  stars  if  she  can  by  dint  of  digging  arrive  at  the  ideas  with- 
out pretending  to  analyze  the  soil  which  covers  them.  Gam 
just  enters,  and  calls  for  toast  and  coffee:  so  good-night.  .  .  . 
Do  you  know  it  is  almost  three  months  since  you  have  en- 
tered into  the  detail  of  books  and  business  ?  If  Procyon,  who 
keeps  a  steady  eye  upon  you,  were  but  a  looking-glass  to  re- 
veal your  secret  doings !  Do  note  him  peeping  in  at  your 
eastern  window  every  evening  between  seven  and  eight. 
Daniel  has  attacked  Thucydides  and  Juvenal ;  Martha,  Italian  ; 
I  distill  and  calcine  with  Fourcroi,  smile  with  Voltaire  at  the 
superstitious  follies  of  barbarous  times,  and  now  and  then 
break  Morpheus's  head  with  an  Italian  drama,  viz.,  Goldoni's, 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  1 37 

which  has  not  much  to  boast  as  to  plot  or  incident,  and  is 
nevertheless  entertaining  from  the  nature  ease,  and  humor  of 
the  dialogue. 


"Always  obliged,  dear  Abba,  by  your  affectionate  sympathy. 
I  am  so  happy  as  to  be  able  to  tell  you  that  Gam  is  on  the 
recovery,  has  a  good  appetite,  and  appears  to  be  free  from  any 
symptoms  of  disease.  He  is,  however,  extremely  weak,  and 
unable  to  sit  up  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  time.  ...  I  have 
had  a  dainty  morsel  in  '  Eichhorn  on  the  Apocalypse :'  he 
considers  the  book  as  a  drama,  imagines  a  plot,  lays  the  action 
in  heaven,  and  adorns  and  illustrates  the  scenes  with  treasures 
of  ingenuity  and  curious  learning.  But  the  hour  of  twilight 
in  a  dark  chamber,  where  the  only  glimmerings  are  those  that 
peep  through  certain  longitudinal  crevices  in  the  window- 
shutters,  is  neither  the  most  convenient  nor  inspiring  for  epis- 
tolizing,  whatever  it  may  be  for  friendly  chat.  No  doubt  you 
are  as  poetically  sentimental  as  'rocking  winds'  and  'heaven's 
pure  expanse'  can  make  you ;  while  I  am  content  if  one  vagrant 
ray  of  Phcebus  makes  its  way  by  noon  through  my  key-hole. 
In  short,  I  have  not  been  out  of  doors  since  the  1st  November ; 
but  of  this  no  complaint,  while  I  converse  ideally — that  is,  not 
in  fancy,  but  in  black  and  white — with  worthies  both  dead  and 
living;  above  all,  since  anxious  suspense  and  distressing  appre- 
hension have  been  dispelled  by  returning  hope." 


MISS    BRADFORD  TO  MISS   EMERSON. 

1816. 

"  My  dear  Friend, — 

"  Charles's  understanding  and  manners  do  his  instructress 
much  credit,  but  sincerely  I  fear  the  dear  little  boy  must  yet 
through  much  tribulation  become  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  hie,  hac,  hoc.  He  has  not  yet  formed  a  habit  of  application, 
if  I  can  judge  from  this  morning's  lesson.  The  labor  of  turning 
over  his  dictionary  wearied  him ;  and,  as  he  came  for  a  visit  of 


138      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

pleasure,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  tease  him.  Nothing  but  the 
responsibility  of  an  interested  instructor  or  the  anxiety  of  a 
parent  can  reconcile  one  to  the  tedious  labor  of  thoroughly 
perfecting  a  child  in  all  the  minutiae  of  a  language  without 
the  aid  of  emulation  or  fear,  the  moving  springs  of  a  public 
school.  To  the  last  you  would  be  unwilling  to  expose  a 
darling  so  early  as  seven ;  but  I  really  think  that  unless 
Charles's  time  could  be  profitably  occupied  at  home  with  the 
elements  of  some  natural  science,  to  inspire  a  taste  for  which 
would  again  require  much  time  and  affectionate  assiduity,  he 
ought  to  go  to  school.  We  will  together  make  one  more 
desperate  effort  for  a  good  private  one,  if  your  ladyship  shall 
see  fit  to  attend  to  my  remonstrances.  Poor  little  fellow,  he 
is  looking  at  pictures  beside  me,  little  imagining  I  am  plotting 
against  his  peace ;  but  so  it  is — the  bitter  root  must  be  tasted 
before  the  sweet  fruits  of  learning  can  be  obtained.  He  has 
behaved  perfectly  well,  and  is  quite  contented ;  but  I  have  let 
the  children  play  nearly  all  day. 

"  Yours,  Sarah." 

"  I  shall  bring  this  myself,  but  I  had  rather  write,  than  talk, 
with  the  air  of  a  counsellor." 


"Your  present  shall  purchase  a  Pindar,*  not  a  pin-cushion. 
I  have  long  wanted  him  to  fill  a  niche  on  my  shelf  of  classics, 
but  not  as  a  token  to  remember  a  friend  who  has  had  more 
power  and  influence  over  me  than  any  other  being  who  ever 
trod  this  earth  or  breathed  this  vital  air.  You  have  sometimes 
been  so  unjust  as  to  impute  it  to  pride  that  I  have  so  seldom 
protested  how  much  I  loved  you,  while  the  true  cause  was 
the  incredulous  smile  with  which  the  expressions  of  affection 
were  repulsed." 

*  This  "  Pindar" — a  small  Oxford  edition  of  1808,  with  the  inscription  "  Sarah 
A.  Bradford  from  her  friend  M.  Emerson" — is  still  in  the  possession  of  Mrs. 
Ripley's  family.  She  was  fond  of  telling  an  amusing  story  of  her  search  for  it. 
"Pindar?"  the  booksellers  would  say,  one  after  another;  "Pindar?  you  mean 
Peter  Pindar,  I  suppose  ?" 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  !39 

"Dear  Mary  — 

"  The  severity  of  your  remarks  drew  a  few  tears  and  shed 
a  temporary  gloom  over  meditation.  But  you  will  accuse 
me  of  pride  again  when  I  tell  you  an  emotion  succeeded 
somewhat  like  resignation  for  the  loss  of  earthly  friendship 
at  the  recollection  of  being  amenable  alone  to  a  higher  tri- 
bunal,— though  just  and  holy  yet  infinitely  merciful,  where  an 
unguarded  expression  will  not  condemn.  Have  I  led  you  to 
believe  I  consider  myself  faultless  ?  I  am  daily  conscious  of 
much  offense  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  but  I  have  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  pain  or  disgust  you  by  the  recital  of 
defects.  I  live  only  on  the  hope  of  amending.  Dearest  friend, 
remember  that  language  of  reproof  much  less  harsh  would 
find  its  way  to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  your  affectionate 

"  Sarah  A.  B." 


"June  12th,  1817. 

"My  dear  Mary  — 

"  I  am  on  the  eve  of  engaging  myself  to  your  brother.  Your 
family  have  probably  no  idea  what  trouble  they  may  be  en- 
tailing on  themselves.  I  make  no  promises  of  good  behavior, 
but,  knowing  my  tastes  and  habits,  they  must  take  the  con- 
sequences upon  themselves.  You  will  be  amused  if  a  long 
epistle  should  reach  you,  written  a  week  since  and  lost  in  the 
street  on  its  way  to  Boston.  Said  letter  contained  an  answer 
to  your  question,  and,  as  the  chance  is  that  it  will  be  put  in 
the  office,  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  a  duplicate. 
"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  Sarah." 


1 4o      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER    II. 

In  1818  Miss  Bradford  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Ripley,  and  for  the  next  twenty-eight  years  her  home  was  in 
the  parsonage  at  Waltham.  In  coming  there  she  entered  at 
once  Jnto  the  labors  of  a  house  where  fourteen  boys  were  kept 
at  a  boardirtg--school,  and  these  labors  continued  during  all 
her  life  there :  she  was  the  sole  matron  of  the  establishment. 
Here  all  her  children  were  born  and  all  but  the  two  youngest 
grew  up ;  and  here  one  daughter  was  married. 

The  first  letters  in  my  possession  from  her  Waltham  home 
are  addressed  to  her  brother  Daniel,  who  had  gone  to  seek 
his  fortune  in  Kentucky.  They  begin  in  1819,  when  her 
eldest  daughter  was  a  few  weeks  old,  and  come  to  an  end  in 
1 82 1.  They  abound,  of  course,  in  details  of  neighborhood 
and  family  affairs;  but,  like  "the  orange  tree,  that  busy 
plant,"  even  the  leaves  share  the  aroma  of  the  flower  and  fruit, 
and  the  tree  is  never  without  blossoms, — if  in  this  ripening 
season  they  must  needs  be  fewer. 

MRS.  RIPLEY   TO    DANIEL    BRADFORD. 

[1819.] 

"  Dear  Brother, — 

"  The  greatest  difficulty  in  an  undertaking  is  surmounted 
when  you  have  begun,  for  then  the  desire  to  finish,  which 
Lord  Karnes,  who  is  over-fond  of  multiplying  original  prin- 
ciples, makes  one  of  our  nature,  comes  in  to  aid  other  reasons 
for  doing  the  business.  So  I  always  put  another  letter  on  the 
stocks  when  I  have  finished  and  folded  one. 

"  Waltham,  Oct.  6th,  18 19. — The  baby  daily  receives  addi- 
tions to  her  wardrobe,  with  notes  which  require  all  one's  in- 
genuity for  variety  to  answer.  Miss  L.  is  making  an  India 
muslin  dress  trimmed  with  lace,  which  she  intended  for  its 
christening  dress;  but  I  prefer  its  making  its  debut  before  the 
parish  in  plain  cambric.     We  decided  the  matter  amicably, 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  I4I 

however,  by  putting  it  on  the  score  of  pride.  The  baby  is 
crying  for  me.     Good-evening." 

After  much  lively  social  comment,  she  continues,  "Nov.  13. 
— I  have  just  finished  Electra;  the  last  scene,  the  murder  of 
Clytemnestra,  is  very  great.  The  Greek  dramatists  were  in 
the  right  to  have  this  business  out  of  sight.  Clytemnestra's 
voice  in  broken  sentences  adds  much  to  the  horror  of  the 
scene.  Her  body  is  brought  out  covered,  and  yEgisthus  thinks 
it  is  Orestes  till  he  lifts  the  veil  and  discovers.  Do  you  recol- 
lect Electra's  lamentation  when  she  receives  the  news  of  the 
death  of  Orestes?  I  think  this  is  the  best  of  Sophocles'  plays 
that  I  have  read  yet.  The  first  part  of  Antigone  is  fine,  but  it 
grows  stupid  toward  the  last.  yEmon  proses.  The  chorus  is 
fine. 

"Abba  is  still  with  us;  we  enjoy  ourselves  right  well.  We 
have  been  going  over  the  old  ground  of  the  ideal  and  common- 
sense  philosophy.  We  quarrel  with  Stewart's  labored  periods 
and  critical,  desultory  style,  and  think  him  indebted  to  Reid 
for  ideas  not  a  few. 

"On  Thursday  the  baby  made  her  debut  in  the  city;  was 
visited  and  complimented  by  all  her  relations ;  we  left  her  in 
state  at  Aunt  Polly's,  dressed  in  Miss  Lowell's  cap  and  Ann 
Dunkin's  robe,  and  set  out  ourselves  on  the  very  interesting 
business  of  doing  up  our  calls  for  the  winter.  .  .  . 

"When  facts  drop  from  my  pen  like  so  many  peas  from  a 
pod,  I  console  myself  by  calling  to  mind  a  remark  of  Gam's, 
that  George's  epistolary  list  of  insulated  events  was  the  most 
entertaining  communication  he  received  during  his  absence." 


"Jan.  17th,  1820,  11  p.m. 

"  Walker*  came  up  on  Saturday  and  stayed  till  this  morn- 
ing, being  Monday.  He  gave  us  two  masterly  discourses  ;  he 
is  a  powerful  man,  a  metaphysician;  studies  mankind  in  books 


*  Rev.  James   Walker,   of  Charlestown,    afterwards    President    of   Harvard 
College. 


142 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


of  general  philosophy,  and  by  the  application  of  general  prin- 
ciples to  the  multitude  of  facts  which  present  themselves  from 
observation  and  experiment.  You  will  smile  at  me  for  talk- 
ing about  James  Walker  in  this  style,  but  he  really  does  grow 
astonishingly.  Did  you  ever  read  any  of  Hartley's  works  ? 
He  is  the  first  man  I  ever  talked  with  who  regarded  Hartley 
as  the  prince  of  metaphysicians. 

"  The  fear  that  our  communication,  which  has  been  one  of 
the  pleasantest  circumstances  in  my  life,  might  be  drawing  to 
a  close,  has  induced  me  to  commence  with  such  zeal  the  busi- 
ness of  epistle-making.  I'm  afraid  you  will  laugh  at  me  for 
being  sentimental ;  but  the  doctor*  has  been  singing  the 
'  Ruins,'  and  I  have  wanted  to-day  to  show  you  some  passages 
in  Ajax." 


"March  31st,  1820. 

"We  have  just  obtained  Ivanhoe;  happier  he  who  writes 
than  he  who  dares  enunciate  the  Saxon's  name,  which,  like 
Giaour  and  Goethe  of  old,  sticks  between  one's  teeth  till  one 
is  assured  how  the  present  company  are  minded. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  devoured  Ivanhoe  ere  this.  What 
variety  of  horrors  in  Front-de-Bceufs  castle,  from  Isaac  in  the 
dungeon  to  Ulrica  on  the  flaming  battlement !  Front-de- 
Boeuf's  death  is  masterly;  the  union  of  heroism  in  humility 
in  Rebecca's  character  is  admirable :  Ivanhoe  kills  his  giant, 
and  that  is  all ;  the  scene  in  the  hermitage  of  the  clerk  of 
Copmanhurst  is  one  of  the  most  amusing.  The  bcau-monde 
are  loudest  in  their  admiration  of  the  tournament;  but  that 
as  well  as  various  encounters  in  the  book  are  no  novelties  to 
those  who  have  read  Ariosto." 


"June,   1820. 

"  We  are  busily  engaged  in  preparing  for  commencement. 
One  poor  wight  is  studying  for  dear  life,  and  trembling  in  his 
shoes,  looking  forward  to  the  day  that  shall  fix  his  destiny  for 
four  years  or  five;  while  if  your  old  friend  S.  should  fail,  it 

*  Dr.  Samuel  L.  Dana. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  143 

will  not  be  from  any  distrust  in  his  own  qualifications.  The 
two  boys  are  the  very  antipodes  to  each  other:  one,  in  his 
efforts  to  express  the  force  of  every  particle,  becomes  bar- 
barous, and  the  other  in  his  ambition  to  be  elegant,  sometimes 
gives  any  sense  rather  than  that  of  the  author.  Oh,  the  misery 
of  correcting  Latin  in  which  there  is  no  indictable  mistake 
and  yet  all  is  wrong  ab  initio  ! 

"August,  1820. — It  is  delightful  weather  with  us:  plenty  of 
ripe  melons  remind  us  of  old  times.  I  have  made  no  accession 
to  my  stock  of  botanical  science  this  summer;  the  wild  flowers 
enjoy  their  retreats  unmolested.  Next  week  comes  commence- 
ment. The  last  numbers  of  the  Edinburgh  and  Quarterly 
and  various  other  new  publications  lie  on  the  table  almost 
unopened.  We  are  so  much  engaged  in  gossiping  and  drilling 
boys  for  college  that  we  find  but  little  time  for  reading.  Mr. 
Francis  supplies  me  with  German  theology.  The  last  author 
I  looked  at,  Gesenius,  adduces  some  very  weighty  reasons 
for  believing  that  the  five  books  ascribed  to  Moses  were  com- 
posed as  late  as  the  golden  age  of  Hebrew  literature,  which 
he  places  in  the  reign  of  David  and  his  successor.  Who  shall 
decide  when  doctors  disagree?  I  wish  I  could  read  Hebrew 
and  its  sister  dialects." 


"  Walthau,  October  5th,  1S20. 

"  Dear  Brother, — 

"  You  allude  to  the  popular  language  of  the  New  Testament : 
had  our  Lord  delivered  discourses  on  abstract  virtue,  had  he 
talked  of  the  Creator  of  the  universe  being  its  moral  governor, 
that  his  government  was  administered  by  general  laws,  that  in 
its  constitution  virtue  and  happiness,  vice  and  misery,  were 
inseparably  and  eternally  connected,  that  every  step  in  the 
one  was  a  step  toward  felicity,  and  in  the  other  toward  degra- 
dation and  suffering,  that  consequences  were  connected  with 
actions  exactly  proportioned  to  their  merit  or  demerit,  his 
words  would  have  fallen  like  empty  sounds  upon  the  ears 
of  a  morally  debased,  superstitious,  and  ignorant  multitude, 
who  could  be  impressed  only  through  the  medium  of  the 


144 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


passions,  and  who  had  no  idea  of  any  suffering  but  physical 
suffering.  In  all  ages  and  states  of  society  a  revelation  or 
system  of  religion  intended  equally  for  the  philosopher  and 
the  peasant  must  admit  the  greatest  latitude  of  interpretation 
in  its  phraseology.  The  peasant  needs  its  guidance  and  con- 
solations most;  it  seems  but  fair,  therefore,  that  its  language 
should  be  suited  to  his  comprehension:  from  the  apologue 
and  the  allegory  the  philosopher  will  easily  infer  the  general 
truth  or  moral.  As  to  the  passage  in  Isaiah,  critics  say  'a 
mighty  God,  a  father  of  the  age'  is  the  most  correct  trans- 
lation of  the  original ;  and  in  the  Hebrew  idiom  these  are  by 
no  means  extravagant  expressions  as  applied  to  distinguished 
personages.  The  question  at  issue  between  trinitarians  and 
their  opponents  involves  such  a  multitude  of  others,  meta- 
physical, ethical,  historical,  philological,  and  critical,  that  it 
seems  to  be  no  easy  day's  work  to  determine  it.  One  of  the 
principal  reasons  why  the  war  is  protracted  without  any  prog- 
ress toward  a  conclusion  appears  to  me  to  be  that  the  dis- 
putants are  continually  on  the  same  old  ground,  adducing  and 
explaining  Scripture  passages,  while  the  most  important  point, 
the  nature  of  inspiration,  and  the  degree  of  it  attending  the 
sacred  records,  is  almost  entirely  kept  out  of  sight. — Well,  I 
think  I  have  given  you  theology  enough :  so  I  will  take  up 
my  work.  But  first  I  will  mention  a  curious  appearance  on  a 
bough  of  black  alder  which  the  boys  brought  in  just  now:  it 
looks  verily  like  white  down,  and  seems  to  be  a  collection  of 
singular  insects  of  different  sizes,  some  with  wings  and  some 
without.  Dr.  Dana  calls  them  a  species  of  aphis,  a  genus 
which  naturalists  consider  a  sort  of  anomaly.  The  sweet 
exudation  on  plants  called  honeydew  is  supposed  to  be  pro- 
duced by  them.  I  intend  to  look  out  for  them  next  summer. 
I  have  been  reading  Ricardo  on  Political  Economy,  a  sensible 
work  on  that  most  complicated  of  all  sciences.  He  dissents 
from  Adam  Smith  in  some  important  points  on  the  subject  of 
rent,  wages,  and  profit;  and  if  his  opinions  are  correct,  which 
he  makes  out  very  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  reader  who 
is  blessed  with  no  greater  stock  of  general  or  particular  knowl- 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  ^ 

edge  in  this  science  than  myself,  he  has  detected  some  errors 
of  considerable  importance  in  their  practical  influence  on  the 
subject  of  taxation  and  other  questions  in  legislation. 

"  I  have  adopted  your  advice  of  making  George  write  Latin 
every  day;  and  his  pieces  are  so  excessively  Latin  that  an  old 
Roman  would  be  puzzled  to  make  it  out.  I  know  no  better 
way  of  correcting  the  faults  than  making  him  write  from  a 
translation  of  Cicero  and  then  compare  with  the  original.  I 
have  been  traveling  slowly  through  Sophocles  ever  since  you 
left  us ;  began  his  last,  Philoctetes,  to-day,  with  the  aid  of  a 
Hedericus  which  Mr.  R.  brought  home  last  Thursday.  I  think 
the  Trachiniae  is  the  poorest  of  his  dramas. — I  have  just  looked 
out  to  admire  the  unclouded  brightness  of  an  October  moon, 
and  return  to  bid  you  good-night.  .  .  . 

"Ajax  is  a  good  play:  there  is  one  scene  between  him  and 
his  wife  and  child  very  great.  One  of  the  chief  difficulties  in 
the  choruses  is,  words  you  cannot  find  in  the  dictionary,  and 
the  translations  take  such  license  in  rendering  they  afford  you 
very  little  help. 

"Gam  was  commending  Wells's  philosophical  essays  to  me; 
one  of  them  a  solution  of  the  problem  why  having  two  eyes 
we  see  objects  single.  One  set  of  philosophers  refers  it  to 
the  judgment  of  the  mind,  the  perception  of  touch  correcting 
those  of  sight.  He  proves  mathematically  that  it  must  be  so 
and  cannot  be  otherwise. 

"There  is  a  good  article  in  the  N.  A.  Review  on  Tudor's 
book,  by  Everett.  It  is  curious  to  remark  the  change  that 
has  taken  place  in  sentiments  and  opinions  since  a  few  years. 
What  would  have  been  stigmatized  some  half-dozen  years  ago 
as  rank  democracy  is  now  regarded  but  as  the  honest  ex- 
pression of  American  feeling,  and  a  just  estimation  of  the 
superior  privileges  of  our  own  free  and  rising  republic." 


"  Waltham,  January  12th,  1S21. 

"  Dear  Brother, — 

"After  many  weeks  of  anxious  expectation,  to  our  great  joy 
we  received  this  evening  yours  from  Greenville,  a  place  not 

10 


146      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

considerable  enough  to  occupy  a  point  on  a  map  half  a  yard 
square,  the  largest  we  could  find  in  the  house.  After  reading 
over  each  other's  shoulders, — we  had  hurried  through  the 
letter  with  breathless  speed, — to  our  great  disappointment  we 
were  referred  for  exact  particulars  to  father,  who  was  here 
yesterday  and  may  not  be  here  again  this  fortnight. — Omnia 
mutantur  is  my  text,  and  the  subject  is  so  full  I  scarce  know 
what  particulars  to  select.  If  you  could  transport  yourself 
to  Waltham,  you  would  perchance  find  yourself  in  a  nursery 
surrounded  with  cribs,  cradles,  guards,  etc.,  your  path  im- 
peded with  dolls  and  playthings,  the  joint  property  of  three 
little  girls :  your  second  niece  made  her  entree  some  seven 
weeks  since;  the  third  is  little  Sarah  E.  You  have  probably 
heard  that  a  malignant  fever  has  swept  off  her  whole  family 
except  the  three  boys  and  this  baby :  she  was  named  for  me, 
and  we  have  adopted  her.  The  family  is  broken  up.  The  two 
youngest  boys  are  at  Duxbury.  The  babies  make  so  great 
demands  on  my  time  and  attention  that  I  have  more  excuse 
than  ever  for  scraps  and  dry  detail.  Good-night :  you  will 
hear  from  me  again  when  they  are  all  safe  in  bed  to-morrow 
evening.  January  18th. — Since  I  wrote  the  above,  my  baby  has 
been  dangerously  ill,  and  is  not  yet  well  enough  to  be  out  of 
my  arms:  so  I  have  left  the  remainder  of  the  paper  to  be  filled 
by  the  younger  ones." 


"Waltham,  February  2d,  1821. 

"  Dear  Brother, — 

"  With  Caesar's  Commentaries  at  hand  I  might  perhaps 
reply  to  your  first  question.  I  will  answer  the  second  after 
the  Yankee  fashion,  by  suggesting  other  queries.  And,  first, 
is  there  not  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  cruel  superstition 
of  Druidism  was  familiar  to  the  islanders  before  the  time 
when  you  suppose  it  to  have  been  introduced  by  Hengist  and 
Horsa  ?  It  appears  from  Tacitus  Ann.  lib.  xiv.  30,  that  the 
soldiers  of  Suetonius  were  so  terrified  by  its  horrid  rites  at 
their  landing  on  the  island  Mona,  "  ut  quasi  hcereiitibus  mem- 


A/XS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY 


1 47 


bris,  immobile  corpus  vulneribus  pr&berent"  For  the  second 
query,  as  it  is  an  aphorism  in  ethics  that  we  always  hate  most 
bitterly  those  from  whom  we  differ  least,  is  it  not  equally  true 
that  the  hatred  and  ambitious  rivalship  of  petty  princes  has 
always  been  superior  to  the  dread  of  the  ambition  of  a  foreign 
power?  Did  not  the  mistress  of  the  world  call  in  the  Goths 
to  decide  the  contest  between  her  political  factions  ?  If  I 
mistake  not,  the  Vandals  got  footing  in  Africa  by  the  same 
means;  and  I  dare  say  the  historical  treasures  of  your  memory 
have  many  illustrations  of  the  same  general  position.  I  want 
to  see  you,  to  rub  up  my  history  and  chronology:  facts  in  my 
head  which  cannot  be  generalized  are  like  so  many  beads  ; 
if  the  string  once  be  broken  they  are  all  in  a  loose  heap.  I 
am  reading  Malthus  on  Population.  You  do  not  like  works 
on  political  economy,  but  I  promise  you, — from  his  perspicu- 
ous and  convincing  general  reasoning,  and  copious  induction 
of  interesting  facts  and  illustrations,  you  will  find  him  as  en- 
tertaining as  any  novel,  Scott's  not  excepted.  I  suppose  you 
will  retort  upon  me,  '  Chacun  a  son  gout'  At  any  rate,  you 
have  no  dislike  to  a  good  piece  of  reasoning  on  any  subject." 


"  May  5th,  1 82 1. 

"  Last  week  father  and  I  took  a  trip  to  Duxbury:  we  spent 
a  day  going  the  rounds,  and  took  tea  at  Mr.  Partridge's;  in 
his  small  parlor  was  collected  more  good  sense  and  soul  than 
would  save  all  Waltham, — scilicet,  Mr.  Partridge,  Dr.  Allyn, 
Mr.  Frazier,  Uncle  Gershom,  and  father.  It  seemed  indeed 
like  liberty  to  roam  at  large  once  more  over  barren  hills  and 
heaths,  where  there  is  no  need  of  looking  around  you  at  every 
turn  lest  you  should  be  trespassing  on  somebody's  ploughed 
field  or  meadow-land.  Scenes  associated  with  the  delightful 
recollections  of  youth  charm  the  more,  the  more  they  differ 
from  one's  present  situation :  the  soldier,  the  mariner,  and  the 
statesman,  when  in  after-life  they  visit  their  native  spot,  the 
pond  where  they  first  put  to  sea  their  little  bark,  the  hill  they 
first  climbed  to  behold  the  rising  sun,  enjoy  more  than  the 


148       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

ploughman,  who  was  born  and  will  be  buried  at  its  foot,  ever 
dreamed  of. 

"  Professor  Stuart  has  been  publishing  some  essays  upon 
the  study  of  the  Oriental  languages,  translated  from  the 
German  :  he  is  very  desirous  of  exciting  a  taste  for  the  study 
of  these  languages  at  Andover.  His  enthusiasm  discovered 
in  the  notes  is  very  amusing:  you  feel  on  reading  them  as 
if  everybody  must  be  an  ignoramus  who  is  not  versed  in  the 
crooked  letters  of  the  East.  He  would  make  you  believe  that 
the  Arabic,  for  its  copiousness  and  variety  of  inflexions  and 
the  treasures  of  literature  to  which  it  is  a  key,  is  infinitely 
more  deserving  the  attention  of  the  scholar  than  the  Greek. 
I  doubt  whether  the  institution  in  future  time  will  not  bear 
away  the  palm  before  Cambridge  in  biblical  criticism.  They 
make  nothing  but  theologians  at  Andover,  but  they  make 
lawyers  and  doctors  too  at  Cambridge.  I  have  added  this 
spring  to  the  blank  leaves  of  Bigelow  a  low  species  of  juniper. 

"  I  am  reading  a  German  chemistry,  in  which,  instead  of 
the  convenient  nomenclature  derived  from  the  Greek,  one  is 
obliged  to  contend  with  barbarous  German  compounds,  salz- 
sauer  for  muriatic  acid,  seiners  toff  {ox  oxygen,  and  zvasser-stoff 
for  hydrogen.  The  German  language  must  be  an  interesting 
subject  in  philology :  it  seems  to  be  the  only  modern  one 
which  has  arrived  at  such  a  point  of  refinement  as  to  be  the 
vehicle  of  science, — a  natural  growth  without  having  been 
graffed  from  a  foreign  stock. 

"  I  believe  I  shall  exceed  my  term  of  four  weeks  this  time; 
but  I  find  very  little  leisure  during  the  day,  and  you  know 
how  we  gossip  away  summer  evenings  at  Waltham." 


"June  30th,  1821. 

"  You  complain  in  your  last  of  long  silence;  and  I  fear  the 
complaint  will  be  reiterated.  Our  family  is  so  numerous  that 
I  find  no  time  to  write  by  daylight,  and  it  is  the  fashion  in 
Waltham  to  spend  the  summer  evenings  basking  in  the  moon- 
beams. .  .  . 


Jl/HS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


149 


"  I  find  some  time  to  read  yet,  but  little  to  think.  Pindar, 
with  your  pencil-marks,  lies  on  the  table  where  I  am  writing.  I 
wish  there  were  more  of  them,  though  I  cannot  always  decide 
whether  they  denote  beauties  or  difficulties.  I  have  opened 
at  the  uypov  vwzw  aiwfieT:  it  is  certainly  beautiful,  but  the  Eng- 
lish bard  does  not  fall  far  short  of  it, '  with  ruffled  plume's  and 
flaersinsr  wins,'  etc.  I  know  not  what  I  would  not  give  for 
one  of  our  old  discussions;  yet  we  should  not  enjoy  it  in  so 
much  peace  as  we  used  to  do,  for  one  must  have  the  voice  of 
a  Stentor  to  be  heard  above  the  clamor  the  little  trio  make, 
whether  in  mirth,  in  sorrow,  or  in  anger. 

"July  $th. — Yesterday  being  the  4th  of  July,  and  our  boys 
being  dispersed  in  various  directions,  we  proceeded  to  Boston 
to  do  up  various  ceremonious  visits.  We  went  into  town  over 
the  mill-dam,  an  immense  work,  from  which  the  posterity  of 
the  speculators  will  probably  reap  some  advantage.  It  lands 
you  in  Beacon  Street,  the  court  end  of  the  town,  instead  of 
dirty  and  retired  lanes.  The  day  was  cool  and  uncommonly 
fine  for  the  celebration.  Charles  Loring  gave  a  sensible  ora- 
tion, and  Mr.  performed  a  performance  (why  not,  as 

well  as  run  a  race  ?),  miscalled  a  prayer,  which  did  violence  to 
the  good  taste  and  religious  feeling  of  his  audience :  it  was 
perfect  histrionism,  an  appeal  to  the  Deity  in  behalf  of  perse- 
cuted debtors,  who  were  denied  the  privilege  of  joining  in  the 
festivities  of  the  day. 

"  Another  Saturday  night  finds  my  page  unfinished ;  it  is 
twelve  o'clock,  and  I  have  just  made  the  last  preparation  for 
the  Sabbath,  that  I,  as  well  as  my  four-footed  brethren,  may 
enjoy  comparative  leisure  for  one  day  at  least, — if  it  can  be 
called  leisure  to  rise  at  half-past  six,  wash  three  babies  before 
breakfast,  look  after  the  tidiness  of  fifteen  boys,  and  walk  half 
a  mile  to  meeting  under  a  burning  sun. 

"  We  were  amused  in  looking  over  Mather's  Magnalia  to 
find  the  words  of  one  Dr.  Arrowsmith,  to  this  effect :  '  Faxit 
Dens  Optimus,  Maximus,  tenacem  adco  veritatis  Jianc  Acade- 
mician {sell.  Almam  Maty  em)  ut  dcinccps  in  Anglid  lupum,  in 


150 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


Hibernia  bufonem  invenire  facilius  sit,  quam  aut  Socinianiim 
nut  Arminianum  in  Cantabrigia!  The  reckless  winds,  alas ! 
must  have  dispersed  in  empty  air  the  pious  wishes  of  the  godly- 
man. 

"  I  have  been  reading  old  Izaak  Walton's  Complete  Angler, 
one  of  the  most  calm  and  placid  books  I  ever  looked  into." 


MRS.  RIPLEY   TO    MISS   ALLYN. 

"  Waltham,  New  Year's  Eve,  1822. 

"  My  dear  Abba, — 

"  My  husband  and  Margaret  have  gone  to  a  party,  and  I 
have  been  amusing  myself  with  the  senseless,  superstitious 
dreams  of  the  Jewish  Talmudists  about  the  advent  of  the  Mes- 
siah, resurrection,  etc.,  and,  having  fairly  nodded,  I  was  awaked 
by  the  idea  of  yourself  flitting  before  the  fancy:  so  I  will  e'en 
throw  by  the  drowsy  book  and  wish  you  a  happy  new  year ; 
and  never,  surely,  did  one  open  with  brighter  auspices  for  you. 
We  sympathize  in  the  '  predisposition  to  low  spirits'  of  which 
you  speak,  and  of  which  we  can  give  scarce  a  better  account 
than  the  modern  sons  of  Esculapius  who  so  often  use  the  term. 
Whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  said  low  spirits,  one  thing  is 
certain  as  to  their  removal,  they  vanish  at  the  shadow  of 
a  real  evil.  Elizabeth  has  been  quite  unwell  for  two  or  three 
days,  and  the  bare  thought  that  death  may  have  set  his  eye 
upon  her  would  in  a  trice  exorcise  a  legion  of  demons  that 
might  have  possessed  the  imagination. 

"  Jan.  8t/t. — I  am  again  alone,  if  it  can  be  called  alone  with 
half  a  score  of  boys  and  three  babies;  the  babies  have  already 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  the  dull  god  who  'on  the  high 
and  giddy  mast  seals  up  the  ship-boy's  eyes  and  rocks  his 
brains  in  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge,'  and  I  have  been 
balancing  between  Ned  Search*  and  yourself,  but  the  later 
acquaintance  has  kicked  the  beam :  so  now  enlarge  the  circle 
of  your  fireside  and  make  room  for  a  visitor.     You  need  not 

*  See  Tucker's  "Light  of  Nature." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  x^  r 

polish  up  the  Lares,  sweep  the  hearth,  adjust  the  ruffle:  it  is 
a  visitor  who  asks  nought  but  the  flattery  of  a  friendly  shake 
and  brightened  eye.  Oh  that  there  were  no  other  intercourse 
than  that  of  perfect  confidence !  Sophia  sent  me  word  to-day 
when  you  were  to  be  married ;  I  put  on  an  air  of  incredulity, 
which  mightily  amused  Martha,  that  I  should  appear  so  jeal- 
ous lest  any  one  should  know  more  of  your  arcana  than  my- 
self.    I  shall  not  see  Mr.  Francis  again  before  you  see  him. 

"  Have  you  read  Valerius  ?  It  gives  you  a  picturesque  view 
of  the  great  city,  and  a  lively  one  of  Roman  manners ;  but  I 
think  there  are  few  fine  touches  in  character:  some  appear  to 
me  strained,  and  others  tame.  I  have  not  finished  it,  however. 
Read  Juvenal's  fourteenth  satire.  I  just  went  to  the  table  to 
see  what  was  the  number  of  the  one  I  was  reading  last  even- 
ing, and  it  produced  such  a  burst  of  ridicule  that  I  should  be 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  Roman  satirist  to  study  out 
an  epistle,  that  I  dare  not  make  an  extract.  There  is  such 
an  agreeable  buzz  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  that  my  mind 
is  abstracted  from  my  fingers,  and  I  must  bid  you  good-even- 
ing and  bear  my  part.  So  we  shall  not  see  you  at  Martha's 
wedding? 

"  Your  most  affectionate  friend,  S.  A.  R." 


In  1822  Mrs.  Ripley's  sister  Martha  was  married  to  Dr. 
Josiah  Bartlett,  of  Concord,  Massachusetts, — ten  miles  from 
Waltham.  Dr.  Bartlett  still  lives  in  that  town,  respected  and 
beloved  by  all.  Her  friend  Miss  Allyn  in  the  same  year  was 
married  to  the  Rev.  Convers  Francis,  then  minister  of  Water- 
town,  a  town  adjoining  Waltham,  and  afterwards  a  professor 
in  the  divinity  school  of  Harvard  University.  Mr.  Francis, 
an  eminent  scholar,  took  equal  delight  with  his  wife  in  the 
society  of  her  friend,  and  their  names  recur  often  in  the  record 
of  visitors  who  were  always  welcome. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  Mrs.  Ripley's  letters  fur- 
nish so  slight  material  for  any  record  of  her  life  during  the 


152       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

greater  part  of  her  residence  at  Waltham.  For  twenty  years 
after  the  date  of  her  latest  letters  to  her  brother  Daniel  there 
are  but  few  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge.  This  period  of 
her  life  was  full  of  arduous  labors  in  the  rearing  of  her  family, 
the  care  of  her  household,  and  the  teaching  of  pupils  in  her 
husband's  school,  or  private  pupils  of  her  own,  both  boys  and 
girls.  During  these  years  two  sons  and  four  daughters  suc- 
ceeded the  "little  trio"  in  the  nursery,  while  those  elder  chil- 
dren grew  up  to  share,  each  according  to  her  gifts,  the  cares 
and  labors  and  friendships  of  the  busy  house.  One  of  the 
younger  daughters,  born  in  1822,  died  very  young.  A  letter 
dated  in  1835,  from  a  friend  who  had  passed  a  night  at  the 
Waltham  parsonage,  says,  "  The  children  in  this  house, — what 
a  charm  there  is  in  their  naturalness  !  Mary  is  a  sort  of 
household  fairy ;  a  temper  hers  and  a  wit  that  raise  and  make 
light  the  daily  bread  of  housewifery.  Elizabeth  walks  aloof, 
pleased  with  still  hours  and  books.  Gore  lives  in  an  ideal 
world,  and  very  comic  in  the  boy  is  the  occasional  crazed  look 
with  which  he  suddenly  re-enters  the  actual  upon  compulsion. 
The  rest  time  must  marshal."  And  again  he  says,  "  Sitting 
down  with  Mrs.  Ripley, — '  leaped  the  live  thought,'  and  two 
noble  hours  of  genuine  conversation  had  we,  quite  alone. 
Never  did  I  love  her  so  well,  for  never  did  I  see  her  so  nearly. 
It  is  good  to  find  the  contrarieties  of  fortune  fused,  as  it 
were,  by  the  genius  of  the  individual, — the  'Dais  in  nobis' 
asserted  and  returned  to  continually." 

Mrs.  Ripley  was  little  of  a  traveler.  She  went  once  with  her 
husband  to  Waterford,  in  Maine,  where  her  friend  Miss  Mary 
Emerson  lived,  and  once,  for  her  health,  to  Burlington,  in  Ver- 
mont. It  was  probably  on  occasion  of  this  last  journey  that 
she  went  as  far  as  the  city  of  New  York,  where  she  saw  La 
Fayette.  The  journey,  therefore,  must  have  been  in  1824  or 
1825. 

The  transcriber  of  these  letters  first  saw  Mrs.  Ripley  in 
1834,  when  she  was  about  forty  years  old;  but  I  had  heard 
of  her  all  through  my  youth,  as  a  lady  who  united  all  house- 
hold   and    motherly   virtues    to    very    uncommon    learning. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


153 


Looking  back  to  my  visits  at  the  Waltham  house,  I  recall 
with  pleasure  that  pure  atmosphere  of  intelligence  and  sin- 
cerity, where  the  flowers  of  thought  opened,  and  the  circle  of 
friends  brought  their  best  to  a  mind  so  quick  to  appreciate 
and  so  eager  to  learn, — to  a  heart  so  ready  to  sympathize  with 
any  genuine  experience. 

The  house  was  pleasant  and  well  ordered.  With  entire 
simplicity  in  the  household  details,  no  guest  ever  missed  any 
comfort  or  refinement;  while  at  times  of  unusual  festivity,  as 
the  wedding  of  a  daughter,  or  a  party  given  by  the  young 
people,  it  was  the  delight  of  their  wealthier  neighbors  to  send 
graceful  and  abundant  offerings  of  rare  fruits  and  flowers  to 
decorate  the  occasion.  The  mother's  dress  was  as  simple  as 
possible,  in  so  far  as  her  own  hand  was  concerned  in  the 
arrangement  of  it ;  and  one  might  well  be  ashamed  of  the 
anxieties  of  the  toilet  who  saw  how  distinguished  and  attract- 
ive, in  the  absence  of  all  that  belonged  to  changing  fashion, 
was  the  nobility  of  form  and  radiance  of  expression  which 
made  ornament  superfluous. 

Her  scholars  and  children  have  pleasant  pictures  of  her, 
sitting  in  summer  under  the  shade  of  trees  near  the  house, — 
the  boys,  with  their  books,  about  her,  reciting  in  the  open  air 
Her  hands  were  often  busy  with  some  household  task  while 
the  Virgil  or  Homer  was  set  up  open  before  her :  "  she  did 
not,"  says  one  of  her  scholars,  "  keep  her  eyes  upon  the  book  ; 
she  seemed  to  know  it  by  heart,  and  always  set  us  right,  or 
asked  us  questions,  or  pointed  out  her  favorite  passages  with 
enthusiasm,  without  interrupting  the  sewing,  or  the  shelling 
of  peas;"  and  he  adds,  "she  was  always  sweet  and  serene." 

I  remember  going  with  Mrs.  Ripley  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Emerson  from  Concord  to  Cambridge,  to  meet  some  distin- 
guished foreigners  at  a  party  where  many  eminent  persons 
were  present.  I  had  never  before  seen  her  in  society  except 
in  her  own  house  or  in  family  meetings  surrounded  by  inti- 
mate friends.  I  was  struck  by  the  marked  and  joyful  attention 
shown  her,  as  one  person  after  another  eagerly  recognized  her 
presence ;   and  also  with  her  own  animated  and  responsive 


154 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


enjoyment.  It  seemed  to  me  that  to  old  and  young  the 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Ripley  was  the  crown  of  the  occasion.  I 
remember  thinking,  too,  that  no  one  was  so  lovely,  or,  with 
whatever  aid  of  wealth  or  fashion,  so  becomingly  dressed,  as 
she,  in  her  plain  black  robe,  and  the  simple  lace  cap  which 
marked  in  delicate  outline  her  beautiful  silver  hair  and  noble 
face. 

There  is  hardly  any  satisfactory  portrait  of  Mrs.  Ripley. 
Her  family  have  a  picture  by  Alexander,  taken  when  she  was 
about  thirty  years  old,  which  is  liked  by  some  persons  who 
knew  her  then.  Cheney  took  a  crayon  likeness  of  her  in  the 
year  1845,  but  he  was  dissatisfied  with  it  and  refused  to  allow 
it  to  go  out.  It  is,  however,  still  in  existence.  Another 
small  portrait,  in  oil,  is  in  possession  of  the  family,  which  was 
painted  in  1857.  It  is,  in  most  respects,  a  good  likeness. 
There  are  also  several  photographs  taken  within  a  few  years 
of  her  death ;  but  they  would  give  to  a  stranger  small  means 
of  forming  any  accurate  impression  of  the  original. 

A  lady  who  was  one  of  the  most  dear  and  valued  friends 
of  Mrs.  Ripley  during  her  life  in  Waltham  writes, — 

"  My  most  intimate  associations  with  Mrs.  Ripley  are  with 
her  Waltham  life, — associations  with  the  most  gifted  woman, 
morally  and  intellectually,  it  has  ever  been  my  happiness  to 
enjoy.  But  they  were  of  so  intimate  and  private  a  nature  that 
it  seems  almost  a  breach  of  trust  to  speak  of  them  openly. 
All  of  her  was  seen  through  a  veil  of  modesty  such  as  I  have 
never  seen  in  any  other.  We  would  not  say  that  she  was  un- 
selfish; she  never  thought  of  self;  it  was  real  unconsciousness; 
goodness  and  kindness  were  so  natural  to  her  that  she  seemed 
only  to  breathe  it.  I  do  not  think  I  was  capable  of  estimating 
her  intellectual  power  or  her  attainments;  but  when  I  saw 
her  in  communion  with  persons  of  superior  intellect  I  was 
quite  aware  of  her  gifts.  She  would  say  to  me — I  always 
thought,  to  comfort  me, — 'One  ounce  of  good  feeling  is 
worth  all  the  learning  in  the  world.' 

"  But  to  see  her  in  her  daily  life  was  an  education.  She 
accomplished  more  than  any  other,  but  it  was  the  subtle  influ- 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


155 


ence  of  her  sweet,  loving,  unconscious  nature  that  gave  her 
the  place  in  our  hearts  and  lives.  I  know  I  owe  her  more 
than  I  can  ever  express.  In  all  the  annoyances  of  an  over- 
taxed life  I  never  saw  her  temper  touched.  She  did  not  know 
resentment;  she  seemed  always  living  in  a  sphere  far  above 
us  all,  yet  in  perfect  sympathy.  Go  to  her,  and,  at  the  name 
of  some  wild  flower  found  in  a  walk,  every  care  was  forgotten, 
— the  occasion  was  entirely  yours.  The  next  moment  she 
was  attending  to  family  matters,  or,  in  summer,  was  under 
the  trees  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  boys,  fitting  them  for  col- 
lege,— boys  who  were  full  of  the  spirit  of  boyhood,  but  who 
never  forgot  what  they  owed  to  her ;  and  when  she  found 
them  in  danger  of  incurring  censure,  a  loving  word  of  caution 
or  suggestion  would  be  spoken,  or  perhaps  quietly  conveyed 
into  a  mended  pocket. 

"  You  will  perceive  how  unworthy  of  the  public  eye  are  all 
these  recollections  of  her.  I  give  them  to  you  as  they  rise 
before  me.  I  have  not  spoken  of  her  great  social  attraction. 
Nearly  all  have  passed  away  that  could  testify  to  that,  but 
none  of  those  who  are  still  alive  can  forget  it.  She  was  the 
centre  and  soul  of  a  small  circle  who  could  appreciate  and 
enjoy.     Never  shall  we  look  upon  her  like  again." 

I  may  properly  find  a  place  here  for  the  following  sketch, 
which  has  been  kindly  sent  me  by  another  highly  valued 
friend  of  Mrs.  Ripley,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hedge.  I  give  it  with  the 
heading  which  he  himself  affixed. 

"A   REMINISCENCE   OF   MRS.   SARAH   RIPLEY. 
"  BY  F.  H.  HEDGE. 

"The  first  impression  she  made  on  me  and  on  all  who  came 
near  her  was  one  of  rich  promise,  which  awakened  the  desire 
of  a  nearer  acquaintance.  A  wonderful  attraction  she  was, 
independently  of  her  rare  acquirements,  which  might  draw 
the  scholar  to  seek  the  converse  of  so  learned  a  woman, — an 
attraction  proceeding  from  no  personal  charms,  but  due  to  the 
astonishing  vivacity,  the   all-alivcucss,  of  her  presence,  which 


156      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

made  it  impossible  to  imagine  her  otherwise  than  wide  awake 
and  active  in  word  or  work. 

"  A  figure  somewhat  exceeding  in  height  the  average  stat- 
ure of  woman,  motions  quick  and  angular  without  being  ex- 
actly awkward,  a  face  not  physically  fair  nor  yet  plain,  but 
radiant  with  intellectual  and  moral  beauty,  a  constant  play  of 
expression,  eyes  charged  with  intelligence,  quick  glancing 
from  speaker  to  speaker  as  the  cup  of  social  converse  went 
round, — such  is  the  image  she  has  left  in  my  memory. 

"  The  charm  of  her  society  to  me  was  her  perfect  natural- 
ness, the  utter  unconsciousness  of  any  special  claim  to  atten- 
tion based  on  her  superior  learning,  which  was  never  intruded, 
and  only  came  to  light  when  some  student  or  savant  wished 
to  compare  notes  with  her  or  she  with  him.  Otherwise,  the 
woman  entirely  absorbed  and  concealed  the  scholar.  It  was 
the  woman,  not  the  scholar,  that  attracted,  that  edified,  and, 
— joined  with  the  generous  hospitality  and  manly  qualities  of 
her  husband, — made  their  house  at  Waltham  so  delightful  a 
place  to  visit  for  all  who  were  privileged  to  be  their  guests.' 

"  In  that  house,  between  the  years  1825  and  1840,  I  was  a 
frequent  visitor,  and  had  abundant  opportunity  of  seeing  Mrs. 
Ripley  in  her  domestic  character,  as  mother  and  housewife, 
as  well  as  of  listening  to  her  converse  with  literary  men.  I 
wondered  at  her  indefatigable  industry.  With  a  large  family 
and  scholars  at  board,  with  pupils  whom  she  fitted  for  college, 
or  instructed  as  '  suspended'  students  in  their  college  studies, 
with  imperfect  health,  suffering  through  life  from  severe  head- 
aches, she  performed  an  amount  of  work  which  might  have 
taxed  the  combined  strength  of  a  professional  school-teacher 
and  two  ordinary  women, — and  yet  had  always  time  to  spare 
for  her  guests,  and  never,  unless  prevented  by  sickness,  re- 
fused to  see  her  numerous  visitors. 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  say  to  what  branch  of  knowledge 
or  what  class  of  studies  she  most  inclined.  In  science  and  in 
languages  she  was  equally  at  home.  Greek  she  especially 
delighted  to  read  and  to  teach ;  but  in  her  latter  days  botany, 
I  think,  was  her  favorite  pursuit. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


157 


"  Some  of  her  friends  have  expressed  a  regret  that  she  was 
not  a  writer  and  has  left  behind  no  published  work  to  give 
proof  of  her  powers.  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  her  char- 
acter that  she  did  not  rush  into  print  and  call  the  world  to 
witness  her  intellectual  attainments.  It  did  not  seem  to  her 
that  she  had  anything  to  communicate  which  was  not  known 
to  the  learned,  and  which  the  studious  might  not  find  already 
in  print.  But  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  knew  her  she  wrote 
a  book  whose  substance  they  will  remember  as  long  as  they 
remember  anything,  and  whose  contents  are  a  commentary 
on  the  text, — 

'A  perfect  woman  nobly  planned.'" 


At  Waltham  the  cares  of  the  parish  and  the  rule  of  the 
school  occupied  the  busy  days  of  her  husband,  who  writes 
from  time  to  time  to  his  sister  "out  of  the  thick  of  the  fight;" 
and  a  word  or  two  from  these  letters  may  be  given  here  as 
illustrative  of  the  place  the  wife  held  in  house  and  heart. 
The  letter  which  follows  begins  with  a  few  lines  from  Mrs. 
Ripley  herself: 

MRS.    RIPLEY   TO    MISS    EMERSON. 

"  Feb.  8th,  1828. 

"Dear  Mary,— 

"  We  have  another  addition  to  the  family,  of  four  pounds 
and  a  half,  which  has  been  struggling  for  existence  for  a 
fortnight,  and  it  appears  that  the  vital  power  is  near  gaining 
the  victory  over  the  tendency  to  decomposition.  It  is,  in 
truth,  a  respectable  little  girl  with  very  proper  eyes,  nose  and 
mouth,  not  to  mention  the  organ  of  mind,  all  comprised  in 
a  compass  not  larger  than  a  middling-sized  apple.  My  hus- 
band has  to  do  double  duty  while  custom  confines  me  to  the 
great  chair.  I  generally  improve  these  weeks  to  rub  up  the 
intellectual  and  clothe  the  outer  man ;  but  anxiety  for  the 
life  of  that  before-mentioned  speck  of  mortality  has  hurried 


158      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

away  most  of  the  two  last.     Do  write; — a  letter  of  congratu- 
lation will  be  expected,  of  course." 


REV.    SAMUEL    RIPLEY   TO    MISS    EMERSON. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sister,"  adds  the  husband,  "do  write  a  letter 
of  congratulation ;  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  '  afore- 
mentioned speck  of  mortality,'  which,  by  the  way,  is  well 
worth  a  few  thoughts  and  words,  seeing  it  is  a  part  of  her, 
who  is  above  all  praise.  But,  if  you  do  condescend  to  write 
in  the  congratulatory  style,  let  it  be  that  Providence  has  given 
me  such  a  wife  as  no  other  man  has,  or  ever  had,  a  woman 
sui  generis,  the  glory  of  her  sex.  But  I  must  not  write  all 
I  feel,  even  to  you  who  know  the  subject  of  my  praise.  If 
Sarah  had  thought  I  would  write  thus,  she  would  not  have 
bid  me  fill  up  her  paper;  but  sometimes  I  take  the  liberty  of 
doing  what  I  please,  albeit  usually  under  pretty  good  manage- 
ment. Wife  is  uncommonly  well :  as  for  her  outer  man  I 
cannot  say  much;  her  dress  is  not  very  comely,  for  you  know 
she  never  paid  much  attention  to  appearance,  and  her  hair  is 
gray,  but  the  fire  of  her  eye  is  not  diminished,  and  the  inner 
man  grows  brighter  and  purer  and  soars  higher  daily." 


"Nov.  1836. 
"  Sarah  was  so  much  pleased  with  her  part  of  your  letter 
that  she  wished  to  answer  it  at  once,  but  she  was  fatigued, 
and  I  persuaded  her  not.  She  is  quite  well,  but  soon  gets 
tired  with  work,  of  which  she  has  more  than  ever  to  do,  as 
we  have  neither  cook  nor  chambermaid, — one  being  sick,  the 
other  discharged  for  bad  conduct.  Wife  has  made  the  bread 
for  our  small  family  twice,  and  excellent  bread  it  was.  Mary 
is  all  in  all, — never  her  equal  in  housewifery.  Her  mother 
once  said,  '  I  never  open  my  eyes  in  the  morning  without 
thanking  God  for  Mary  Ripley.'  " 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  jcg 

1S37- 
"  My  dear  sister, — Yesterday  was  my  birthday,  and  what 
has  become  of  fifty-four  years  I  know  not.  ...  I  have  much 
to  be  thankful  for,  many  in  whom  to  rejoice,  and  one,  the 
richest  and  choicest  blessing  that  God  ever  gave  to  man, 
to  aid  and  bless  and  sustain  me, — a  pure,  noble,  exalted 
being,  whose  light  gladdens  and  cheers  and  at  the  same 
time  guides  all  about  her.  But  I  need  not  tell  you  of  one 
whom  you  know  so  well." 


1839. 
"  Wife  is  very  well  this  winter,  but  has  much  to  do  with 
boys  and  men,  in  the  way  of  recitations,  etc.  We  all  have  to 
work  hard.  Lizzy  says  she  has  no  time  to  read,  and  Mary, 
that  she  has  no  dancing  or  riding.  But  they  enjoy  themselves, 
and  make  all  around  them  cheerful  and  glad." 


1S40. 
"  Sarah  is  now  reading  Spinoza's  Tractatus  Theologicus.    She 
lives  in  the  society  of  Plato  and  others  of  the  same  school, 
and   her  spirituality  raises   her   above  all   the  poor   mortals 
around  her." 


"March,  1841. 

"Sarah  is  very  well,  and  so  high  in  the  spiritual  world  that 
nothing  disturbs  her  serenity.  She  looks  with  perfect  calm- 
ness upon  everything  around  her,  and  is  the  sun  that  moves 
and  warms  and  animates  all  within  her  sphere,  which  is  not 
very  narrow." 


I  return  again  to  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Ripley,  going  back  to  a 
date  some  years  earlier  than  those  of  her  husband  last  given. 

mrs.  ripley  to  miss  emerson. 
"Dear  Mary  — 

"  I  believe  you  do  not  know  me  :  I  would  not  weaken  the 
faith  of  the  poorest,  the  most  contemptible,  the  most  hateful 


l6o      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

fanatic  that  bears  with  me  a  common  nature.  God  forbid  that 
I  should  be  the  fiend  in  the  paradise  of  a  soul  so  pure,  so 
elevated,  so  spiritual,  as  Waldo's  !*  I  shall  weep  with  him  in 
silence,  sit  humbly  at  his  feet  if  so  I  may  catch  a  spark  of  the 
holy  inspiration  that  glows  within  his  bosom.  Have  I  no 
admiration  for  the  pure,  the  beautiful,  the  good?  Has  the 
pride  of  intellect  raised  its  altar  in  my  soul,  and  sent  forth 
into  the  highway  for  its  worshipers  ?  Are  my  ears  closed  to 
the  music  of  heaven  ?  No,  you  cannot  believe  that  it  is  the 
mist  of  earthly  passions  which  dims  my  spiritual  vision.  There 
are  moments  when  I  would  exchange  minds  with  the  humblest 
being  that  calls  for  his  Father  and  has  never  doubted.  Without 
faith,  creation  is  a  blank,  its  wonders  and  its  glories  a  cipher 
without  a  key,  and  I  will  not  say  man,  but  thinking,  feeling 
man,  is  of  all  beings  most  miserable.  Humanity,  if  nothing 
else,  would  keep  me  on  the  lookout  to  avoid  making  ship- 
wreck of  's  faith,  or  that  of  any  other  of  the  young  ones. 

You  are  fixed  on  a  rock,  and  I  talk  with  you  to  find  its  basis. 
"  Yours  through  existence,  finite  or  infinite, 

"  S.  A.  R." 


"  Waltham,  Sept.  4th,  1833. 

"Dear  Mary,— 

"  I  came  home  from  Concord  last  night  with  an  ague  and  a 
troublesome  blister;  but  when  Mr.  R.  told  me  there  was  a 
letter  from  you  I  darted  forward  for  it,  and  the  privileges  of 
an  invalid  have  given  me  time  to  respond  to  it.  Since  you 
rest  your  claim  on  feeling,  it  will  soon  be  acknowledged.  On 
that  altar  I  sacrifice  my  vanity,  and  sit  down  to  give  you  a  dry 
detail  of  facts.  The  journal  of  one  day  would  serve  for  all: 
the  morning  spent  in  hearing  recitations,  the  afternoon  in  the 
labors  of  the  needle  or  the  horrors  of  digestion, — in  the  even- 
ing the  old  machine  refuses  any  farther  service,  unless  it  be  to 
take  a  part  in  the  village  gossip.  When  you  ask  for  a  letter, 
you  expect  communion  with  a  soul  penetrated  with  reverence 

*  R.  W.  Emerson. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  j6! 

for  the  true  in  itself,  warmed  through  and  glowing  with  ad- 
miration for  the  beautiful  and  good.  These,  alas!  are  the 
visions  of  the  lake  and  mountain,  not  of  the  school-room  and 
parlor.  ...  I  too  was  disappointed  in  Sir  James.*  The 
only  question  to  me  of  philosophical  interest  in  ethics  is 
whether  the  moral  element  be  original  or  acquired  :  he  has 
done  little  to  settle  that  question,  though  it  is  evident  to  which 
side  he  leans.  Could  he  possibly  have  persuaded  himself  or 
have  supposed  he  could  persuade  any  one  else  that  he  had 
lifted  by  so  much  as  the  weight  of  a  finger  the  stumbling- 
stone  of  necessity  ?  The  only  able  advocates  for  the  liberty 
side  are  those  who,  like  the  Germans,  boldly  assume  it  on  the 
evidence  of  pure  reason.  To  some  parts  of  the  book  my 
heart  warms.  He  deserves  a  crown  of  gold  for  the  justice  he 
does  to  the  good  Davidf  and  the  minds  of  his  stamp.  The 
metaphysics  of  the  heart  and  head  are  equally  unsatisfying: 
the  soul  of  the  universe  is  the  only  conception  which  satisfies 
my  imagination ;  but  what  have  the  conceptions  of  a  finite 
mind  to  do  with  the  essence  of  the  infinite?  I  would  give  a 
great  deal  to  see  you  for  a  little  while ;  but  a  visit  from  you  is 
like  a  bewitching  romance  which  leaves  the  reader  a  dreaming 
and  unfits  him  for  the  humdrum  cares  and  labors  of  real  life. 
If  I  might  only  see  you  when  what  the  writer  of  '  Character- 
istics' calls  the  '  disease  of  thought'  comes  on ! 

"  We  have  put  Elizabeth  into  a  class  with  two  boys  who  are 
fitting  for  college  next  commencement,  and  she  keeps  up  with 
them  very  well.  In  a  year  or  two  she  will  be  able  to  assist 
her  father.  We  have  lately  had  a  delightful  visit  of  two  days 
from  Waldo.  We  feel  about  him  as  you  no  doubt  do.  While 
we  regard  him  still  more  than  ever  as  the  apostle  of  the  eter- 
nal reason,  we  do  not  like  to  hear  the  crows,  as  Pindar  says, 
caw  at  the  bird  of  Jove ;  nevertheless  he  has  some  stout 
advocates.  A  lady  was  mourning  the  other  day  to  Mr.  Francis 
about  Mr.  Emerson's  insanity.  '  Madam,  I  wish  I  were  half 
as  sane,'  he  answered,  with  warm  indignation." 


*  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy. 
j  David  Hume. 

II 


1 62      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER    III. 

In  1840  the  Rev.  George  F.  Simmons  was  settled  over  the 
parish  in  Waltham  as  colleague  to  Mr.  Ripley. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley  became  warmly  attached  to  Mr. 
Simmons,  and  when,  after  two  years,  he  resigned  his  post  in 
Waltham  and  went  to  Europe  for  two  years  or  more  of  study, 
their  whole  hearts  followed  him  with  love  and  longing  for  his 
return.  The  unreserved  intercourse  of  friendship  was  kept 
up  by  letters,  and  a  selection  from  these  gives  material  for 
this  chapter. 

The  "  mother"  so  often  spoken  of  in  these  letters,  and 
"  Charles,"  are  the  mother  and  young  brother  of  Mr.  Simv 
mons, — then  residing  in  Boston.  Between  them  and  the 
Ripley  family  a  friendship  had  already  grown  up,  which  was 
never  interrupted  while  they  lived. 

MRS.  RIPLEY   TO    MR.  SIMMONS. 

"  Waltham,  Oct.  8th,  1843. 

"  I  cannot  help  fastening  the  thread  now  which  is  to  be 
spun  across  the  ocean.  We  bore  the  farewell  courageously, 
but  we  all  felt  as  if  the  cloud  which  had  been  gathering  so 
long  had  at  last  closed  round  our  horizon.  .  .  . 

"  Mr.  Russell  came  the  very  day  you  left  Boston,  and  the 
next  morning  we  set  out  for  Prospect,*  on  which  we  spent 
most  of  the  day,  searching  every  shady  corner  for  mosses. 
The  lichens  he  does  not  so  much  regard  at  present :  neverthe- 
less many  were  his  revelations  concerning  the  lower  world  of 
vegetation.  How  much  I  thought  of  you,  it  would  take  one 
to  tell  who  has  lost  the  friend  with  whom  for  two  years  all 
that  has  crossed  their  path,  beautiful  in  nature,  new  in  science, 
spiritual  in  thought,  or  true  and  pure  and  noble  in  life,  has 

*  Prospect  Hill,  in  Waltham, — a  little  less  than  five  hundred  feet  high,  and 
about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  from  Mrs.  Ripley's  house. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  163 

been  shared,  and  thereby  doubled.  But  to  return  to  Russell. 
He  went  up  the  hill,  looking  along  the  ground  and  calling 
out  now  at  the  sight  of  the  reindeer  moss,  and  then  again  at 
■the  variegated  leaves  of  the  Pyrola  maculata,  which  he  said 
was  rare  in  this  vicinity,  and  so  on,  till  we  reached  the  top  of 
the  hill,  when  he  turned  round,  and,  without  expecting  it,  saw 
the  extensive  view  which  we  used  to  look  at  last  winter.  He 
exclaimed  with  admiration  enough  to  satisfy  any  lover  of 
Waltham  and  its  beauties.  The  lichen  which  you  told  me 
the  farmers  used  for  dyeing  he  calls  Parmelia  saxatilis.  It  is 
in  color  between  lead  and  ashes,  and  grows  everywhere  on 
the  walls,  mingling  with  the  light-green  P.  caperata,  which  I 
trust  will  often  catch  your  eye  on  a  Prussian  or  German  rock 
and  transport  you  back  to  the  village  where  you  live  in  many 
a  heart.  But  I  will  not  fill  my  paper  with  botany  and  Mr. 
Russell.  I  will  only  tell  you  that  he  showed  me  in  his  micro- 
scope the  circulation  of  the  sap  in  the  cells  of  a  small  trans- 
parent plant.  You  could  see  the  current  of  little  globules 
passing  up  one  side  and  down  the  other  of  the  magnified  cell. 
This  is  the  Eureka  of  modern  botany :  nothing  was  detected 
before  so  like  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  animal 
economy.  .  .  . 

"  I  fear  the  secular  will  quite  crowd  out  the  theological,  so 
I  give  up  the  pen  to  Mr.  Ripley." 

And  Mr.  Ripley  continues  : 

"  Wife  has  given  up  the  pen  to  me,  and  a  villainous  pen  it 
is;  I  must  mend  it  before  I  can  make  a  mark." 

Then  follows  a  statement  of  parish  affairs  and  prospects, 
ending  with  warm  expressions  of  affection  and  desire  for  the 
return  of  the  friend  "in  the  hope  of  seeing  whom  again  so 
many  live." 

"  Darby-and-Joan-like,  wife  and  I  fix  out  a  letter  for  you. 
It  is  like  the  old  clergyman  and  his  wife  of  whom  Madam 
E.  told  me  that  they  passed  a  night  at  her  house, — both  in 
the  habit  of  smoking.  The  minister  would  smoke  a  few 
whiffs,  then  give  the  pipe  to  his  better  half,  who  would  do 


164      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  same  and  hand  it  back  again.  In  our  case,  however,  wife 
begins  and  almost  ends  the  work,  so  that  little  remains  for 
me." 


MRS.    RIPLEY   TO    MR.    SIMMONS. 

"  Waltham,  Nov.  5th,  1843. 

"  You  are  by  this  time  in  London.  How  does  Babylon 
the  great  look  to  you  ?  I  should  think  that  men  as  they 
swarm  in  the  streets  of  a  strange  city  would  look  to  one  like 
phantoms :  one  almost  loses  sight  of  the  undying  spirit  even 
on  Waltham  plain.  If  it  were  not  for  the  fireside  and  the 
closet  we  should  get  to  regard  it  as  a  matter  of  very  little 
importance  whether  the  demons  fought  or  the  brownies 
labored. 

"Sat.  ev'g,  Nov.  nth. — The  rain  is  descending  in  torrents. 
I  have  just  put  the  finishing  stitch  to  Rufus's*  socks.  The 
boys,  all  but  two,  are  safe  at  their  own  firesides.  The  whistle 
of  the  wind  is  mingling  in  soft  harmony  with  that  of  the  Fitch- 
burg  railroad.  Gore  has  just  arrived,  with  all  the  dignity  of 
a  voter,  to  attend  a  Whig  meeting.  I  don't  know  nor  care  on 
whose  head  the  honors  of  the  republic  fall ;  but  one  thing  I 
know, — that  I  am  quite  weary  of  railroad  men,  and  men  that 
play  whist  and  drink  wine.  I  have  a  stronger  feeling  of 
brotherhood  with  the  poor  Irish  fellow  that  came  to  the  study 
window  where  I  was  sitting  yesterday  to  beg  for  work.  We 
begin  to  talk  of  Concord  again ;  but  I  suppose  it  will  end  as 
it  begins.  Day  before  yesterday  the  girls  and  I,  in  council  in 
the  dining-room,  decided  to  strike,  turn  every  boy  out  of  the 
house,  and  trust  for  bread  to  the  one  or  two  private  scholars 
which  I  have.  The  plan  was  all  made  out,  notice  was  to  be 
given  to  the  parents  at  the  Thanksgiving  vacation,  and  the 
house  was  to  be  cleared  the  first  of  January  of  boys  and  ser- 
vants ;  no  more  roasted  turkeys,  no  more  sponge  cake,  no 

*  Rufus  was  the  hired  man. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


I65 


more  entry  stoves, — the  dinner  of  herbs  with  love  was  all  be- 
fore us.  But  alas  !  when  at  the  tea-table  we  proposed  our 
reform,  the  cheerful  face  with  which  papa  had  returned  from 
Lincoln  was  so  changed  that  our  spirits  fell  at  once.  Ezra  to 
leave  college,  bills  at  Earle's  unpaid,  the  pleasant  wood  fire 
extinguished  forever,  and  an  air-tight  reigning  in  its  stead, — 
these,  with  other  phantoms  of  labor  and  privation,  stalked  in 
grim  array  past  the  love-feast  of  the  dining-room,  and  here 
we  are,  just  as  we  were  before,  girding  ourselves  each  morn- 
ing for  the  battle  of  the  day.  The  association  is  to  meet  here 
next  Tuesday.  Mr.  Ripley  has  been  trying  to  smoke  the  poor 
bees  out  of  the  chimney  this  afternoon,  lest  they  with  their 
treasures  should  make  part  of  the  company ;  from  the  buzzing, 
there  seems  to  be  disturbance  in  the  commonwealth. 

"  There  came  a  letter  from  ,  asking  to  make  an  ar- 
rangement for  an  exchange;  such  a  letter  as  a  genial,  good- 
humored  person  would  write.  It  reminded  me  of  what  the 
Unitarians  all  were  in  my  young  days.  They  had  come  out 
from  the  dry  bones  of  cant  and  formalism,  with  a  message  to 
the  understanding.  The  goodness  of  God  and  man's  com- 
fortable position  in  this  bright  and  convenient  world  were  their 
constant  theme.  They  sat  secure  under  their  own  fig-tree, 
with  a  competence  for  life,  free  from  the  petty  jealousies  which 
competition  engenders  in  the  other  professions ;  and  their  social 
affections  in  general,  and  especially  toward  their  own  fraternity, 
blossomed  out  in  great  luxuriance.  But  times  are  changed. 
The  priest  can  no  longer  stand  in  the  portico,  calling  out  to 
those  who  are  passing  by,  blinded  by  superstition  or  hood- 
winked by  authority.  The  understanding  has  had  its  day  ; 
the  soul  is  hungering  for  food,  and  he  that  ministers  at  the 
altar  must  enter  into  the  holy  of  holies  himself,  and  bring  it 
forth  from  thence.  When  the  poor  bees  were  buzzing  yester- 
day with  terror  and  dismay  to  find  their  foundations  suddenly 
undermined  with  sulphur  smoke,  the  doubt  occurred  whether 
superior  beings  might  not  regard  the  earthquakes  and  vol- 
canoes which  lay  waste  the  face  of  our  insignificant  planet 
with  as  much  indifference  as  we  do  the  smoking  of  a  bee-hive  ; 


1 66      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

whether  the  waste  of  individual  life  and  happiness  might  not 
be  as  unimportant  in  the  economy  of  the  great  whole.  But 
the  soul  answers,  no.  It  declares  that  its  interests  are  eternal ; 
that  its  intuitions  come  directly  from  the  centre  of  all  life. — I 
am  reading  Timseus  the  Locrian,  concerning  the  soul  of  the 
world  and  of  nature,  the  work  of  an  old  Pythagorean  philos- 
opher supposed  to  have  been  contemporary  with  Socrates. 
I  am  refreshed  by  the  utterances  of  these  primitive  worship- 
ers of  truth.  They  relieve  me  from  the  doubt  whether  the 
eyes  of  the  soul,  turned  by  Christian  culture  in  one  direction, 
may  not  see  universal  truths  where  it  would  have  dreamed 
of  no  such  thing  if  it  had  lived  eighteen  centuries  ago.  I 
return  with  deepened  convictions  to  the  simpler  and  sublimer 
teachings  of  Him  to  whom  the  Spirit  was  given  without 
measure. 

"  Yesterday,  being  Sunday,   Mr. preached,  and  I  felt 

more  than  ever  how  fast  I  am  receding  from  the  church  of 
which  Unitarianism  is  the  exponent,  and  that  is  the  only  mani- 
festation of  its  power  with  which  I  am  familiar.  We  must 
have  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul.  If  we  find  it  in  the  church, 
how  venerable  in  its  environment  of  olden  time !  but  we 
eschew  the  church  when  it  is  only  a  mask  to  cover  the  want 

of  it>     Mr. preached  from  the  text  'O  wretched  man,' 

etc.  How  the  bucket  of  the  gentleman  danced  up  and  down 
on  the  surface  of  that  deep  well  of  spiritual  life  from  which 
the  saints  have  in  all  ages  drawn  living  water !  But  he  is  a 
pleasant  fellow,  with  warm  and  quick  sympathies,  and  by 
these  I  suppose  enters  largely  into  the  joys  and  sorrows  of 
his  flock.  I  have  just  returned  from  a  walk:  wind  blowing 
cold  enough,  but  it  is  good  to  get  out  beneath  God's  pure  and 
open  heaven  even  this  wintry  evening, — the  moon  riding  in 
mid-heaven  in  pure  splendor,  and  Venus  with  Jupiter  set  like 
two  diamonds  in  the  front  of  night.  Does  not  such  a  canopy 
seem  a  fit  cover  only  for  believing,  loving  souls  ?  Still  sliding 
into  the  homiletic ;  some  spell  surrounds  me." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY,  167 

"January  9th,  1S44. 

"  I  was  walking  the  other  morning  with  Waldo  Emerson 
in  Concord,  and  I  told  him  I  thought  the  soul's  serenity  was 
at  best  nothing  more  than  resignation  to  what  could  not  be 
helped.  He  answered,  '  Oh,  no;  not  resignation,  aspiration  is 
the  soul's  true  state !  What  have  we  knees  for,  what  have  we 
hands  for  ?     Peace  is  victory! 

"  Still  in  the  faith  that  home  detail  interests  you,  I  enter 
into  the  minutiae  of  New  Year's  presents.  .  .  .  But  what  is 
much  better  than  presents  from  the  boys  is  the  fact  that 
William  Lyman  takes  interest  enough  in  Greek  and  Latin 
to  ride  out  to  Waltham  these  frosty  mornings,  thermometer 
below  zero,  to  read  Xenophon  and  Tacitus  to  me. 

"February  23,  1844. — To-morrow  evening  Mr.  Emerson 
lectures  at  the  Rumford.  He  has  promised  to  bring  a  lecture 
'  which  has  legs.'  But  I  fear,  after  all,  wings  will  be  sprouting 
out.  at  the  heels.  The  community  at  Brook  Farm  has  changed 
its  internal  organization  and  adopted  the  Fourier  system. 
I  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  change,  but  only  the 
fact  that  some  of  the  original  settlers,  finding  the  new  system 
too  mechanical  for  their  taste,  prefer  to  stand  on  their  own  legs 
as  individuals,  to  being  merged  in  a  '  dormitory'  or  '  refectory' 
group." 


"April  8th,  1844. 

"  Dear  Friend, — 

"  '  Partnrit  almus  ager,  Zephyrique  tepentibus  aim's 
Laxant  arva  sinus  ;  superat  tener  omnibus  humor."1 

"  Just  returned  from  a  walk  ;  the  soft  air,  swelling  buds,  and 
moaninsr  frogs  are  so  associated  with  the  past  that  we  walk 
not  alone,  though  the  ocean  separates  us  from  the  friend  who 
was  wont  to  lay  with  us  the  first  spring  garland  on  the  altar 
of  nature, — nature,  dear  mother,  whose  arms  are  open  and  lap 
spread  to  receive  us  'when,  with  low-thoughted  care  confined 
and  pestered  in  this  pinfold  here,' wearied  and  fretted,  we  throw 
ourselves  upon  her  genial  bosom,  and  dream  of  the  heaven 


1 68      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

which  'lay  about  us  in  our  infancy.'  Mother  came  out  last 
Wednesday,  being  the  day  before  Fast,  to  spend  said  anniver- 
sary with  us.  But  she  could  not  hold  out  against  the  fine 
weather  and  our  entreaties,  so  she  stayed  till  this  morning, 
Monday.  Fast  was  a  most  beautiful  day,  warm  as  July.  The 
boys  were  off  in  the  cars,  with  leave  to  stay  till  the  next  Mon- 
day. Soon  after,  Uncle  George  arrived,  his  great  boots  bring- 
ing with  them  no  small  quantity  of  the  Concord  soil.  He 
joined  us  in  the  dining-room,  converted,  as  you  know,  on 
such  occasions  into  a  cooking-room,  to  prepare  for  the  once 
holy  day,  now  become  a  holiday.  The  meat  stuffed,  and  the 
puddings  and  cake  in  the  oven,  we  repair  to  the  parlor,  to  look 
out  for  the  cars ;  and  soon  the  motley  current  pours  past  the 
Townsends,  no  small  part  of  it  turning  down  the  lane.  Im- 
mediately all  heads  at  the  windows,  to  determine  who  is  who 
in  the  group,  and  as  soon  as  mother,  Lizzy,  Nannie,  Susan  T., 
and  Sarah  are  made  out,  a  rush  from  the  house  to  welcome 
them  to  the  joys  of  leisure  and  friendship.  Next  comes 
Ezra,  with  the  news  that  Dr.  Francis  purposes,  with  Mrs. 
Francis,  to  take  tea  with  us  the  next  day.  Congratulations 
over,  the  evening  passes  swiftly  and  gayly  away.  What  is 
wanting  in  wit  is  made  up  in  laughter.  Lizzy  comes  freighted 
from  the  halls  of  the  great,  Uncle  George  with  radicalism 
from  Concord,  and  the  sophomore  with  nonsense  from  Cam- 
bridge. Uncle  George  and  Lizzy  agree  that  their  souls  have 
no  fellowship  with  Beacon  Street.  Mother  is  wide  awake, 
eats  blanc-mange  in  spite  of  Dr.  Jackson,  and,  after  she  has 
gone  through  the  form  of  retiring  for  the  night  with  the  girls 
Mr.  Ripley  is  obliged  to  raise  his  voice  with  the  admonition 
that  '  it  is  time  for  honest  folk  to  be  asleep.'  Now  I  am 
again  at  the  morning,  warm  as  July.  After  a  social  breakfast, 
which  none  can  taste  as  those  who  keep  boys,  Uncle  George 
leaves  us  for  Brook  Farm,  to  visit  his  old  friends  and  see  how 
Fourierism  thrives.     And  in  his  stead  comes  Dr.  Noyes,  who 

makes  the  sermon,  and  a  young  Mr. ,  of  whom  I  have 

told  you  before  as  '  a  person  to  be  much  scrambled  for  both 
by  the  churches  and  by  the  ladies.'  .  .  .  Mother  and  I  set 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  i6g 

forth  for  the  hills,  beguiling  the  way  with  a  constant  buzz, 
which  Mary  somewhat  ludicrously  mimics.  Saw  the  doctor 
and  his  coadjutor  safe  in  their  chaise,  and  then  mother  and 
I  set  forth  for  the  greenhouse.  Mr.  Irish  showed  us  all  his 
things;  and  when  we  were  sated  with  heat  and  fragrance,  and 
had  quenched  our  thirst  from  a  broken  flower-pot  with  the 
bright  water  from  the  cistern  at  the  gate,  we  turned  our  steps 
homeward,  and  on  the  way  met  the  party  from  Cambridge. 
By  this  time  you  will  be  willing  that  the  various  '  groups  and 
series'  should  amuse  and  dispose  of  themselves  as  they  best 
may,  leaving  you,  as  the  Germans  say,  to  find  yourself. 
Mother  and  I  have  scoured  the  fields  and  climbed  the  rocks 
every  day ;  and  time  would  fail  me  to  tell  what  we  saw  and 
what  we  said.  This  morning,  which  rose  in  mist,  took  mother 
away,  and  thus  ends  my  tale.  The  14th,  Saturday,  I  spent  in 
bed  with  headache.  Sunday  morning  the  sun  looked  out  on 
the  fields  bright  and  warm  as  June.  I  rose  at  five,  took  an 
apple  in  my  hand,  and  C.'s  volume  of  Beethoven  under  my  arm. 
I  took  the  road  to  Prospect,  sat  down  on  a  rock  at  the  foot, 
and  was  reading  my  book,  when  I  heard  a  rustling  among 
the  fallen  leaves,  and,  turning  round,  a  fawn  laid  his  '  innocent 
nose'  in  my  lap.  The  picturesque,  however,  soon  vanished, 
with  the  illusion  of  the  'ferce  natures',  for  a  gabbling  among 
the  trees  announced  the  approach  of  four  girls,  with  whom 
the  fawn  joined  company  and  left  me  to  my  book.  Between 
nine  and  ten  I  returned,  so  weary  and  red  that  the  people 
who  met  me  on  the  road  did  not  recognize  me.  Mr.  Lippitt 
preached, — a  sensible,  quiet  man,  without  affectation.  He 
made  a  good  statement  of  our  debt  to  the  past  and  consequent 
obligation  to  the  future,  and  pleased  the  conservatives  by  as- 
serting that  the  community  men  entirely  overlooked  or  dis- 
owned said  debt.  When  we  reached  home  we  found  Charles 
in  the  study.  The  evening  passed  most  pleasantly.  We  had 
music.  He  asked  me  to  walk  with  him  next  morning  at  five. 
Accordingly,  the  rising  sun  lighted  us  on  our  way  to  the 
mountain  again.  We  sheltered  ourselves  from  the  cool  north- 
west beneath  the  covert  of  the  moss-grown  rock  on  the  top 


170 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


of  the  hill.  Charles  warmed  as  he  read  and  talked  of  the 
sublime  inspirations  of  the  deaf  apostle.  Charles  is  devoted 
to  star-gazing :  spends  most  of  his  evenings  when  here  in 
consulting  the  old  defaced  dusty  globe  and  drawing  maps  of 
the  heavens. 

"  You  recollect  that  stick  with  the  liclien  hebraica  so  beau- 
tifully sketched  upon  it,  that  I  labored  with  my  hand  and  you 
with  your  penknife  to  procure?  alas!  some  vandal  has  given 
it  to  the  flames.  I  have  not  met  with  another  specimen  be- 
fore or  since." 


"  May  20th,  1844. 
"  To-day  is  the  third  day  of  our  holidays,  and  I  am  enjoying 
it  alone.  Sophia  has  gone  to  Lowell,  to  enact  what  Jean  Paul 
would  call  an  Idyll  with  Fanny  A.  Phebe  is  taking  lessons 
in  music  again :  we  encourage  it,  as  the  gem  in  the  bottom  of 
her  cup  of  daily  labors  and  vexations  with  the  nine  urchins 
in  the  attic.  Lizzy  collects  her  tribe  of  pupils  in  Miss  Cush- 
ing's  parlor.  They  count  much  on  amalgamation  with  Phebe's 
nine  beneath  the  trees  at  recess,  to  eat  their  cakes  and  cut  their 
jokes. 

'  Ye  blessed  creatures,  I  have  heard  the  call 
Ye  to  each  other  make. 
****** 

My  heart  is  at  your  festival, 
****** 
The  fullness  of  your  bliss,  I  feel,  I  feel  it  all.' 

With  this  rapture  of  the  poet  I  bid  you  good-night. 

"  May  22. — I  have  left  a  heap  of  stockings, — for  stockings  will 
wear  out  even  in  vacations, — to  spend  a  few  moments  with  you. 
I  am  writing  in  the  girls'  room.  The  fir-tree  at  the  window 
is  covered  with  little  red  sparrows  picking  the  seeds  from  the 
cones  :  what  preachers  of  faith  they  are !  Last  Saturday  Mr. 
Ripley  and  myself,  with  the  two  youngest  girls,  went  to  Dux- 
bury  to  pass  Sunday.  Duxbury  is  the  Arcadia  of  my  youth : 
the  sand  hills  and  pine  forests,  the  moss-covered  grave-stone 
of  my  grandfather,  the  very  boards  I  used  to  tread  on  the 
way  to  church,  now  half  buried  in  sand,  are  there  still,  but 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  171 

they  tell  me  of  that  which  can  never  return  ;  they  reveal  to 
me  what  I  was  and  what  I  am.     All  of  them 

'  speak  of  something  that  is  gone. 

The  pansy  at  my  feet 

Doth  the  same  tale  repeat. 
Whither  is  fled  the  visionary  gleam  ? 
Where  is  it  now,  the  glory  and  the  dream? 

****** 
What  though  the  radiance  which  was  once  so  bright 
Be  now  forever  taken  from  my  sight, 

Though  nothing  can  bring  back  the  hour 
Of  splendor  in  the  grass,  of  glory  in  the  flower; 

We  will  grieve  not,  rather  find 

Strength  in  what  remains  behind  ; 

In  the  primal  sympathy 

Which  having  been  must  ever  be ; 

In  the  soothing  thoughts  that  spring 

Out  of  human  suffering; 

In  the  faith  that  looks  through  death, 
In  years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind.' 

"  When  we  came  home,  we  found  mother  assisting  Mary 
to  dress  for  a  wedding.  The  wedding, — don't  you  wish  you 
knew  whose  it  was  ?  No  other  than  your  young  brother  in 
the  faith,  J.  W.  Amiable,  affectionate,  domestic  young  people, 
looking  forward  to  a  quiet  life  of  duty  and  love  in  the  bosom 
of  their  parish, — poor  things  !  they  little  know  what  is  in  store 
for  them.  But  through  trial  come  strength  and  wisdom. 
Mother  went  into  Boston;  Charles  to  walk  with  me,  and  so 
missed  the  train,  but  bore  it  tranquilly,  and  we  sat  down  to 
study  Virgil's  description  of  the  plough,  and  went  out  to  re- 
alize our  guesses  with  Rufus  and  his  model." 


"  Jl'rie>  1844. 

"  Charles  whets  his  logic  weapons  and  tries  their  temper  on 
me.  He  takes  the  side  of  the  '  Utile'  I  the  '  Honestum'  The 
other  morning  I  was  picking  to  pieces  an  old  mattress  in  the 
barn,  and  was  making  a  most  disagreeable  dust.  Charles 
came  from  under  the  tree  where  he  had  been  reading,  and, 
seating  himself  on  the  hay-mow,  began  to  discuss  the  subject 


1 72      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

of  the  dissolution  of  the  Union.     He  has  a  clear  head,  and 

gives  me  much  light  on  questions  of  popular  debate. 

"  Mr.  Ripley  suffers  from  the  old  enemy ;  he  has  taken  a 

new  post  in  the  knee,  and  is  not  to  be  driven  away  by  cotton 

or  colchicum.     So  it  is  time  I  was  in  bed;  for  I  must  rise  at 

five  and  work  till  five  waiting  on  the  boys.    I  have  two  youths 

to  drag  through  Cicero  and  Caesar  into  college  in  eight  weeks  ; 

but  it  is  not  a  disagreeable  task,  as  they  know  the  value  of 

instruction,  and  there  is  something  like  disinterestedness  in 

working  for  those  from  whom  you  hope  to  receive  little  in 

return.     The  youths  with  money  give  me  shawls  and  caps, 

but  very  little  satisfaction. 

********** 

"  Hermann,  and  Werther's  Charlotte  are  a  proof  that  the 
man  (Goethe)  had  an  apprehension  of  true  love  and  the  dig- 
nity of  virtue.  The  scene  at  the  fountain  is  excellent, — and 
the  Pfarrherr.  The  dignity  with  which  Charlotte  dismisses 
for  the  last  time  the  love-distracted  youth  is  peculiarly  noble. 
It  is  virtue  acting,  not  canting." 


"Waltham,  June  20th,  1844. 
"  Day  before  yesterday  I  went  to  Cambridge  to  meet  a 
pleasant  party  at  Dr.  Francis's, — Miss  Fuller,  Sarah  Clarke, 
Mrs.  Farrar,  the  Whites,  James  Lowell,  an  artist  by  the  name 
of  Page  with  his  very  beautiful  wife,  Dr.  Gray,  etc.  The  party 
was  for  the  Clarkes,  who  are  soon  to  leave  for  the  West.  S. 
was  quiet  and  intelligent  as  usual.  William  White  and  James 
Lowell  kept  the  ball  going  in  the  way  of  conversation.  There 
was  nothing  said  to  be  remembered,  but  the  talk  was  free  and 
easy;  no  one  felt  any  responsibility,  but  all  were  cheered  and 
electrified  by  the  atmosphere  of  wit  and  intelligence.  William 
Tiffany's  drawings  were  shown,  who  receives  many  compli- 
ments from  connoisseurs.  I  know  you  take  an  interest  in  the 
fine  boy,  and  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  on  the  same  day  he 
had  read  in  public  a  dissertation  on  the  effect  of  Christianity 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


173 


on  the  fine  arts,  for  which  he  received  the  first  prize.  I  hope 
he  will  not  be  too  much  elated  with  success  ;  he  seems  very 
modest  still.  The  drawings  we  looked  at  were  illustrations 
of  the  Ancient  Mariner,  and  some  from  Goethe.  I  do  not 
understand  such  matters,  but  they  seemed  to  me  full  of  life, 
especially  the  spirit  of  the  storm  in  a  cloud.  ...  I  returned 
in  the  morning'  cars.  The  engineer,  a  brother  of  Professor 
Felton,  and  the  contractor,  Mr.  Belknap,  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. It  makes  one  feel  alive  to  see  the  workers  in  the  world, 
efficient  men,  and  believers  too,  though  it  be  but  in  railroads  ; 
not  wholly  selfish  either,  and  looking  no  farther  than  their 
own  pockets,  but  working  cheerfully  and  hopefully  for  others 
as  well  as  themselves.  When  I  saw  the  two  aforesaid  speci- 
mens of  humanity  conferring  together,  with  an  expression 
that  showed  life  was  a  reality  to  them,  I  sympathized  for  the 
moment  with  them,  and  thought  that  the  champions  of  ideas, 
who  talk  and  talk  while  the  cars  fly  by  with  bell  and  whistle, 
if  they  would  be  heard  must  keep  serene  and  look  benevolent, 
and  not  complain  if  the  loaves  and  fishes  fall  to  those  whose 
rightful  wages  they  are.  J.  W.  and  his  pretty  bride  took  tea 
with  us  this  evening,  looking  as  satisfied  and  happy  as  if  they 
had  just  entered  into  rest  instead  of  warfare." 


"  August  16th,  1844. 
"  Last  Saturday,  thermometer  nearly  eighty,  Ezra  and  I 
set  out  for  Duxbury  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  follow 
Uncle  Gershom  to  the  grave.  I  believe  you  saw  enough  of 
him  to  be  interested  in  the  circumstances  of  his  death.  He 
had  gathered  a  basket  of  his  early  corn,  in  which  he  took 
much  pride,  and  was  in  the  act  of  handing  it  to  Mrs.  Weston 
with  a  smile,  when  his  knees  sank  under  him,  and  he  fell  at 
the  doorstep  and  never  breathed  again.  A  death  beautiful,  be- 
cause in  keeping  with  his  life.  A  man  most  self-dependent, 
hating  all  pretension  and  display,  and  living  so  much  out  of 
doors  as  to  be  almost  as  much  a  part  of  nature  as  the  trees 


174 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


whose  fruit  he  gathered.  I  loved  him  like  a  father,  for  he 
was  part  and  parcel  of  my  childish  joys.  In  his  youth  he 
was  the  very  embodiment  of  fun.  You  never  could  calculate 
on  what  he  would  do  or  say.  And  in  his  manhood,  the 
staunch  supporter  of  every  good  cause,  he  lived  a  silent  but 
most  efficient  life,  walking  in  his  own  path  without  fear  or 
favor.  Long  before  the  temperance  movement  began,  he  had 
banished  all  liquors,  even  wine  and  cider,  from  his  table. 
The  evening  after  his  funeral,  being  Sunday,  there  was  a  tem- 
perance meeting  in  the  woods ;  and  I  should  rather  have  been 
the  subject  of  the  tribute  paid  to  his  memory  by  those  whom 
he  had  saved,  than  to  have  been  crowned  in  the  Capitol  with 
the  laurel  or  the  oak.  The  grief  of  his  children  is  worth  all 
the  sermons  on  immortality  I  ever  heard.  Everything  is 
sacred  which  belonged  to  him.  The  old  chair  in  which  he 
sat  beneath  a  tree  has  a  large  stone  placed  in  it,  that  it  may 
not  be  removed.  They  rejoice  that  the  clothes  he  preferred 
to  wear  are  too  old  to  give  away.  Aug.  22d. — Last  Sunday, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ames,  Uncle  George,  and  Charles  with  us.  The 
evening  better  still,  by  the  addition  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Francis, 
who  passed  the  night  likewise ;  so  there  was  no  need  to 
look  at  watches  to  see  how  time  wagged.  George  told  me 
an  anecdote  of  Uncle  Gershom  so  characteristic  that  I  must 
repeat  it.  He  was  walking  in  his  woods,  and  saw  a  man 
cutting  down  a  tree ;  he  concealed  himself,  that  the  man 
might  not  see  him,  and  went  home.  When  asked  why  he  did 
not  put  a  stop  to  the  man's  proceedings,  he  said,  '  Could  not 
the  poor  man  have  a  tree  ?'  " 


"  On  the  mountain  one  feels  like  a  man  and  not  a  member. 
I  would  there  were  more  of  the  mountain  in  life, — its  faith  and 
freedom.  You  have  so  often  taken  up  the  gauntlet  against 
conventions  that  I  do  not  fear  bondage  after  this  manner  for 
you.  But  if  perchance  the  pride  of  learning  should  fence  you 
in  any  theological  pen,  I  pray  that  the  fence  may  never  be 
close  enough  or  high  enough  to  hide  the  mountain." 


MRS.  SAMUEL   RIPLEY.  1 75 

"  Waltham,  Oct.  6th,  1844. 

''  Dear  Friend, — 

"  It  is  several  weeks  since  I  have  spoken  to  you,  not  because 
you  have  been  absent  from  my  mind, — oh,  no !  but  because 
these  fine  days  have  brought  many  friends,  and  many  boys 
have  brought  cares.  It  is  no  longer,  '  mother  and  Charles 
came  out  one  day  and  returned  the  next,' — for  mother  is  one 
of  us  :  she  has  entered  the  penetralia,  been  initiated  into  the 
mystery  of  the  household  gods,  comes  to  breakfast  with  the 
girls  after  the  boys  have  retired,  and  so  on.  Then  her  diver- 
tissement is  to  mend  the  stockings  and  roll  them  up  in  the 
neatest  manner,  whiten  sheets  and  napkins  on  the  grass,  watch 
the  robins  as  they  come  in  flocks  for  the  berries  on  the  moun- 
tain-ash tree  at  the  west  window,  and  take  a  stroll  at  evening 
with  me,  to  talk  of  our  children,  to  compare  our  experiences, 
what  we  have  learned  and  what  we  have  suffered,  and,  last  of 
all,  to  complete  with  pears  and  melons  the  cheerful  circle  about 
the  solar  lamp  these  chill  autumn  evenings.  Just  now,  how- 
ever, she  has  gone,  and  the  day  that  she  went  into  the  city, 
Mary  Emerson,  a  sister  of  Mr.  Ripley,  who  has  not  visited  us 
before  for  many  years,  came  at  evening  and  has  been  with 
us  till  to-day.  She  is  seventy  years  old,  and  still  retains  all 
the  oddities  and  enthusiasms  of  her  youth, — a  person  at  war 
with  society  as  to  all  its  decorums ;  she  eats  and  drinks  what 
others  do  not,  and  when  they  do  not ;  dresses  in  a  white  robe 
such  days  as  these ;  enters  into  conversation  with  everybody, 
and  talks  on  every  subject ;  is  sharp  as  a  razor  in  her  satire, 
and  sees  you  through  and  through  in  a  moment.  She  has 
read,  all  her  life,  in  the  most  miscellaneous  way,  and  her  appe- 
tite for  metaphysics  is  insatiable.  Alas  for  the  victim  in  whose 
intellect  she  sees  any  promise !  Descartes  and  his  vortices, 
Leibnitz  and  his  monads,  Spinoza  and  his  unica  substantia, 
will  prove  it  to  the  very  core.  But,  notwithstanding  all  this, 
her  power  over  the  minds  of  her  young  friends  was  once 
almost  despotic.  She  heard  of  me  when  I  was  sixteen  years 
old  as  a  person  devoted  to  books  and  a  sick  mother,  sought 
me  out  in  my  garret  without  any  introduction,  and,  though 


176      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

received  at  first  with  sufficient  coldness,  she  did  not  give  up  till 
she  had  enchained  me  entirely  in  her  magic  circle.  .  .  .  We 
took  Miss  Emerson  to  Brook  Farm,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley* 
being  old  friends  of  hers.  Things  looked  comfortless  to  me, 
in  spite  of  the  new  buildings.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley,  who 
were  once  the  centre  about  which  persons  united  by  common 
intellectual  and  moral  sympathies  revolved,  now  seem  to  be 
units  lost  in  a  crowd. 

"  I  talked  with  J.  S.  D.,  and  asked  him  what  he  was  doing. 
He  said  his  business  was  to  arrange  juvenile  industry,  and 
that  he  found  it  quite  difficult  and  disagreeable.  Poor  man  ! 
I  cannot  make  one  child  work ;  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
do  with  fifty.  .  .  .  Ezra  is  deep  in  metaphysics,  and  brings  me 
many  a  case  in  casuistry  to  settle ;  tells  me  how  Dr.  Walker 
decides,  and  sometimes  we  venture  to  dissent  from  the  oracle 
when  the  response  is  for  a  limit  instead  of  a  great  principle." 


MRS.  RIPLEY   TO    MRS.  FRANCIS. 

[1844.] 

"  Dear  Abba, — 

"  Ezra  said  you  were  glad  to  receive  a  note  from  me.  It 
gives  me  great  pleasure  to  believe  it.  When  your  father,  who 
was  everything  to  me  so  many  years  ago,  said,  'Be  a  friend  to 
my  daughter,'  he  could  not  foresee  that  our  lot  would  be  cast 
so  near  together  that  constant  intercourse  would  keep  the 
chain  bright.  Years  have  not  dimmed  the  clear,  truthful  vision 
nor  chilled  the  warm  and  genial  love  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
good  in  the  friend  of  my  youth.  And  now  that  you  have  been 
and  are  laying  me  under  a  pecuniary  obligation  by  your  kind- 
ness to  Ezra,  which  perhaps  I  shall  never  be  able  to  repay,  I 
do  not  feel  embarrassed  by  the  fear  that  I  shall  not,  but  rather 
rejoice  in  the  fact  of  my  entire  confidence  in  your  love. 

"S.  A.  R." 

*  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Ripley. 


MRS.  SAMUEL   RIPLEY.  iyy 

MRS.  RIPLEY    TO    MR.  SIMMONS. 

"Jan'y  9th,  1S45. 
"  G.  read  me  letters  from  his  friend  who  is  studying  for  the 
Catholic  Church,  full  of  deep  humility  and  generous  Catholi- 
cism. I  would  that  the  self-satisfied  formalists  who  swarm  in 
Unitarian  pulpits — and  not  in  those  only,  I  suppose — could 
hear  them.  You  will  wonder,  perhaps,  that  such  a  spirit 
should  have  found  its  home  in  the  Catholic  Church.  But  the 
form  in  which  a  soul  deeply  stricken  by  religious  conviction 
clothes  the  expression  of  its  faith  and  love  is  an  idiosyncrasy 
which  we  cannot  always  understand  unless  we  understand 
thoroughly  the  person  who  is  the  subject  of  it.  .  .  .  Phcebe 
comes  home  this  morning  and  tells  us  that  Mr.  Clarke  had 
announced  to  his  society  his  intention  of  exchanging  with 
Mr.  Parker,  and  thereupon  one  man  took  up  his  cane  and 
marched  out.  I  should  like  to  be  in  the  pulpit  once,  to  be 
able  to  say,  '  I  shall  on  the  next  Sabbath  exchange  with  Theo- 
dore Parker:  first,  because  I  believe  him  to  be  a  religious  man, 
for  religion  I  understand  to  be  the  surrendering  of  the  soul  to 
God  and  to  the  guidance  of  his  Holy  Spirit;  and  secondly,  be- 
cause he  is  a  friend  of  man,  and  Jesus  was  the  friend  of  man.' 
And  if  the  sleek  citizens  with  varnished  boots,  and  souls  nar- 
rower than  their  purses,  should  take  up  their  canes  and  walk, 
I  would  betake  myself  to  a  more  generous  brotherhood  in  the 
potato-field,  and  leave  the  pulpit  to  those  willing  to  walk  in 
such  a  treadmill." 


"Jan.  27th,  1S45. 

"A  few  days  since  came  the  packet  by  the  Slow  Dutchman, 
full  of  interesting  matter.  I  should  hesitate  about  what  I 
have  to  write  in  return,  if  it  were  not  that  the  parts  of  your 
letters  are  devoured  with  most  eagerness  which  assure  us  that 
you  love  and  think  of  us  always.  We  heard  they  were  in  Boston 
and  hesitated  about  a  ride  to  Cambridge,  lest  they  should  ar- 
rive while  we  were  gone ;  home  at  half-past  ten ;  found  Mr. 
R.  reading  his  share  with  a  look  of  triumph  over  us ;  time  left 

12 


178      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

before  bed  only  to  read,  or  rather  glance  over,  the  latest  and 
most  loving  parts.  Next  day  all  daylight  swallowed  up  in 
school  and  household ;  evening,  Dr.  Francis.  Next  day,  Mr. 
Ripley  absent,  additional  burden  of  boys ;  evening,  in  bed 
with  headache;  Saturday  morning,  boys  again,  with  cookery 
added  ;  one  hour  after  dinner  at  last  gained,  or  rather  snatched, 
for  the  Alps.  Anna  Margaretta  and  the  flowers  most  pleasing, 
— the  map  a  great  help.  Evening  brought  divinity  student, 
Mr.  White,  son  of  Judge  White  of  Salem  ;  very  gentlemanly, 
with  much  literary  culture ;  been  at  Calcutta,  Alexandria, 
Grand  Cairo,  passed  fourteen  months  in  Europe.  Sunday 
morning  took  him  to  Lincoln ;  brought  in  his  place  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Francis  and  their  son,  and  Mrs.  Locke  with  an  impetu- 
ous little  curly-haired  fellow  three  years  old.  The  divinity 
student  so  agreeable  that  we  were  glad  of  him  for  a  second 
night.  William  White,  of  Watertown,  at  tea,  oozing  out  at 
every  pore  for  the  slaves." 


"  Feb'y,  1845. 

"  You  write  to  Mr.  Ripley  of  the  preaching  in  Switzer- 
land. I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  past  is,  as  the 
boys  say,  'no  go'  for  the  pulpit,  any  more  than  abstractions. 
The  philosopher  finds  in  its  facts  material  for  induction  where- 
with to  verify  the  principles  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of 
human  society;  but  living,  feeling,  acting  man  must  be  seized 
through  the  present.  The  past  can  affect  him  only  when  in 
the  cycle  of  human  experience  it  stands  by  the  side  of  the 
present  in  similitude  or  contrast.  Galilee  and  Jerusalem  will 
fill  the  mind  when  they  are  acted  over  again  in  Waltham  or 
Boston.  I  think  the  only  efficient  preachers  (though  not  at 
all  to  my  taste)  are  those  who  lift  up  their  voice  and  spare 
not,  in  spite  of  public  opinion,  against  licensed  violations  of 
truth  and  right  and  mercy  in  Church  and  State.  The  lyceum 
may  enlighten  the  intellect  and  feed  the  imagination,  but  life 
is  the  province  of  the  pulpit.    I  believe  you  will  think  I  have 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


1/9 


usurped  it;  but  when  thoughts  occur  as  I  read  your  letter,  I 
naturally  say  them  to  you. 

"  Uncle  George  came,  and  a  divinity  student,  Thomas  Hill,* 
a  distinguished  mathematician,  such  as  nature  turns  out  of 
her  mould  only  now  and  then.  Talked  of  La  Place's  theory 
of  creation,  and  how  they  used  to  try  to  find  the  parallax  of 
fixed  stars  and  did  not  succeed,  and  how  they  tried  nowadays 
and  did  succeed." 


"  April  22d,  1S45. 

"  As  to  the  theology  of  your  last,  I  cannot  reply  to  it, 
because  I  have  forgotten  the  provocation  that  called  it  forth. 
The  charge  of  inconsistency  I  think  I  could  disprove ;  but  I 
will  leave  it  for  some  brighter  hour.  I  will  only  say  that  when 
I  was  eighteen,  my  appetite  for  theology  was  so  intense  that 
I  learned  German  without  the  aid  of  grammar,  and  by  means 
of  a  dictionary  with  one  French  word  and  one  Russian, — 
because  I  thought  the  store-house  of  its  treasures  was  there. 
It  was  an  era  in  my  life  when  my  father  gave  me  leave  to  buy 
a  Griesbach,  the  dry  critical  preface  to  which  was  far  more 
exciting  than  any  reading  can  ever  be  to  me  again.  And  now 
I  am  so  changed.  Religion  has  become  so  simple  a  matter  to 
me, — a  yearning  after  God,  an  earnest  desire  for  the  peace 
that  flows  from  the  consciousness  of  union  with  him.  It  is 
the  last  thought  that  floats  through  my  mind  as  I  sleep,  the 
first  that  comes  when  I  wake.  It  forms  the  basis  of  my 
present  life,  saddened  by  past  experience.  It  bedims  my  eyes 
with  tears  when  I  walk  out  into  the  beautiful  nature,  where 
love  is  all  around  me.  And  yet  no  direct  ray  comes  to  my  soul. 
Perhaps  it  is  God's  peace  instead  of  God  I  seek  :  so  I  sit  and 
wait  in  patience  for  his  grace,  and  will  still  wait.  Earnests 
and  foretastes  come ;  but  humble  waiting  in  days  of  darkness 
will,  I  trust,  bring  better  fruits.    You  say  we  shall  fight.    The 

*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Hill,  now  of  Portland,  Maine, — late  president  of  Harvard 
College. 


I  So      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

war  will,  I  think,  be  one  of  words.  Yet  how  can  we  look  at 
things  alike?  You  must  increase,  but  1  must  decrease;  you 
are  just  entering  the  fullness  of  being,  I  have  proved  and  found 
it  vain.  I  intended  to  have  filled  this  page  with  other  matters, 
but  to-night  I  do  not  feel  like  talking  about  persons  and  things ; 
to-morrow  we  will  meet  perhaps  in  the  phenomenal  world. 
April  2$d. — I  feel  half  inclined  to  draw  my  pen  over  last 
night's  page  :  an  experience  seems  untrue  as  soon  as  uttered. 
Both  seeking  truth,  we  shall  beckon  each  other  onward  to  the 
same  centre,  if  by  different  paths.  And  now  for  details.  To 
begin  with  the  parish,  the  first  act  of  the  new  administration 
was  to  secure  Mr.  Hedge  for  the  month  of  April.  It  is  fine, 
you  will  know,  for  us  to  have  him  with  us  every  Saturday 
night  and  Sunday.  Parish  affairs  bring  me  to  Mr.  Ripley, 
who  has  had  a  long  reprieve  from  his  enemy  in  the  foot,  but 
on  whose  forehead  eighteen  months  have  left  many  a  wrinkle 
and  gray  hair.  Mr.  Hedge  remarks  that  he  looks  careworn, 
much  changed  to  him;  no  wonder,  for  his  days  are  a  constant 
fight.  Oh,  if  we  ever  live  to  see  these  seven  great  boys  into 
college !  He  warms  up  with  pleasure  whenever  you  are  men- 
tioned, and  especially  whenever  you  mention  him.  .  .  . 
Mother,  I  believe,  has  won  Lizzy's  heart  from  me,  but  I  am 
not  jealous :  I  ask  nothing  from  the  young  ones  but  that  they 
should  be  good  and  happy.  Ezra  is  still  exemplary  for  dili- 
gence and  economy.  He  is  to  appear  on  the  stage  in  a  Greek 
dialogue  the  coming  May  exhibition.  The  girls  are  intolerant 
of  what  they  call  his  self-conceit ;  they  cannot  stand  the  air 
with  which  he  swings  his  cane  and  shakes  his  hair  away  from 
his  eyes ;  but  I  am  his  firm  ally.  They  may  smile  and  jeer, 
but  he  has  the  satisfaction  of  an  innocent  life  and  virtuous 
industry." 


"May  13th,  1845. 
"  My  chances  to  write  are  few,  for  you  know  at  this  season 
my  day  is  devoted  to  boys  ;  and  mother  and  Charles,  who  are 
with  us  now,  monopolize  the  evening  by  their  agreeable  con- 
versation.     Besides,  the  trees  are  all  bursting  into  life  and 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


181 


beauty,  and  the  moon  is  just  entering  her  second  quarter,  and 
for  the  last  two  days  the  thermometer  has  stood  at  8o°  :  so 
of  course  we  are  under  the  trees  and  on  the  stone  wall  all 
the  play-time.  ...  A  voice  from  below  summoned  me  to 
welcome  Mr.  Hedge,  whom  Mr.  R.  brought  with  him  from 
the  association.  The  evening  conversation  easy  and  genial, 
springing  from  friendship  without  a  shade  of  distrust.  I  say, 
with  Horace,  '  nil  ego  contulcrim  jucundo  saints  aviico! 

"  I  have  no  private  scholars,  and  so  spend  my  days  in  the 
noisy  school-room,  aiding  Mr.  Ripley  and  ripening  my  plans 
of  life  for  Concord.  I  went  to  see  Dr.  Gray  the  other  day, 
and  he  showed  me  a  splendid  microscope  mounted  like  a 
telescope,  and  some  very  pretty  phenomena  of  crystals  seen 
by  polarized  light;  and  told  me  of  a  beautiful  work  on  Euro- 
pean mosses,  with  magnified  engravings,  just  received  at  the 
Cambridge  Library,  and  that  I  should  have  it  next  after  him- 
self." 


"June  22d. 

"  The  books  that  I  have,  speak  most  respectfully  of  German 
lichenologists  and  muscologists.  If  you  find  any  treatise  on 
these  commoners  of  nature,  get  it  for  me. — It  is  a  delightful 
summer  day,  the  lawn  covered  with  hay-cocks.  We  are 
spending  it  alone.  We  looked  out  for  George,  Charles,  and 
Gore  till  bedtime,  but  in  vain:  we  must  eat  our  cherries  which 
the  girls  picked  amidst  the  wet  leaves,  without  them.  The 
great  cherry-pie,  too,  on  which  I  expended  my  strength  and 
sugar,  they  will  not  taste, — that  is,  if  the  noon  train  do  not 
bring  them.  25th. — The  noon  train  brought  the  youths;  the 
evening,  Uncle  George.  We  had  music,  the  piano  with  ac- 
companiment on  the  flute,  plenty  of  cherries  and  plenty  of 
wit.  G.  and  C.  act  on  each  other  magnetically,  as  they  say 
nowadays.  C.  described  with  all  his  powers  of  satire  the 
style  of  debate  at  the  abolition  meetings  he  attended  on  elec- 
tion week,  with  an  evident  undercurrent  of  delicate  respect 
for  the  state  of  mind  of  the  debaters.     At  last  they  got  upon 


1 82       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  White  Mountains,  so  fertile  a  source  of  travelers'  diffi- 
culties and  dangers.  But  who  can  tell  of  the  seasoning  of 
successful  jokes  and  amusing  anecdotes !  You  know  the 
genial  times  when  each  loses  himself  in  the  free  spontaneous 
flow  of  thought  and  fancy.  We  work  hard,  to  be  sure,  but 
'  nodes  ccenceque  deorum'  like  these  will  offset  much.  The 
other  evening  I  met  C.  C,  who  told  me  '  a  large  man  with  a 
carpet-bag  had  inquired  the  way  to  our  house.'  I  hurried 
home,  and  found  Russell  seated  in  the  dark,  in  the  parlor,  with 
Mr.  R.  We  soon  had  a  light,  the  box  of  mosses  and  lichens 
and  microscopes  all,  and  he  told  me  ever  so  much  in  answer 
to  the  questions  I  had  laid  up  to  ask  him.  In  my  last  visit  to 
Duxbury  I  had  found  a  lichen  composed  almost  altogether 
of  net-work.  I  searched  in  vain  for  a  description  of  it,  and 
he  tells  me  that  it  has  not  been  described,  and  that  Tuekerman 
in  his  catalogue  will  call  it  Cladonia  Russcllii.  We  walked  at 
five  o'clock  this  morning,  and  you  would  be  well  bored  with 
barbarous  names,  if  I  did  not  fear  that  these  humble  denizens 
of  the  forest  would  stand  but  a  poor  chance  against  Neander 
and  the  fine  arts.  Did  I  tell  you  about  a  beautiful  scarlet-cup 
mother  and  I  picked  up  in  a  rich  spot  near  the  spring  on 
Prospect  ?  I  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  fungus  or  lichen, 
but  my  botanist  decided  for  the  first.  He  had  not  seen  your 
powdery  lichen,  and  said  they  were  all  valuable  on  account 
of  their  '  habitat.'  Don't  forget  to  pick  more :  there  is  no 
knowing  what  you  may  do  for  science.  Apropos  of  fungi,  I 
must  quote  Linnaeus's  description  of  them,  it  is  so  poetic, — 
and  you  are  in  a  region  where  there  is  faith  in  the  trinity  of 
Philosophy,  Poetry,  and  Religion.  He  characterizes  the  little 
fellows  as  '  nomades,  autumnales,  barbari,  denudati,  putridi, 
voraces.  Hi,  Flora  redncente  plantas  Mematum,  legunt  relictas 
carum  qiusqiulias  sordesque* 

"  Excuse,  as  before,  all  errors  in  spelling,  and  let  the  super- 
abundance of  letters  in  some  words  make  up  for  the  de- 
ficiencies in  others." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  1 83 

"  Sunday  morning,  July  20th. 

"Just  returned  from  a  walk  with .     He  talked  of  the 

religious  state  of  several  of  his  friends,  those  who  assert  and 
feel  the  soul's  want  of  a  mediator, — that  it  cannot  be  saved 
but  by  Christ ;  he  disposed  to  consider  it  not  an  accidental  but 
a  genuine  part  of  the  religious  history  of  the  soul,  I  not  en- 
tirely assenting.  Whenever  we  talk  together,  you  come  natu- 
rally to  my  mind.  Believing  in  your  truth  as  I  do,  I  cannot 
but  look  with  interest  to  the  development  of  your  religious 
thought,  in  relation  to  your  intellectual  experience  in  its  other 
aspects.  .  .  .  The  intellect  is  so  apt  to  run  across  the  path  of 
religious  thought,  or  rather  of  Christian  theory,  and  to  shroud 
its  aberrations  in  a  mist  of  mysticism  or  untruth,  imposing 
on  itself  or  others,  and  the  bias  is  so  strong  on  the  side  of 
the  position  which  we  have  taken  in  life,  or  into  which  we 
have  been  drawn,  that  I  am  apt  to  distrust  appeals  to  intuitions 
and  ultimate  facts,  which  do  not  reveal  themselves  to  my  dif- 
ferently constituted  mind.  The  road  to  the  Father  has  always 
seemed  to  me  direct,  and,  though  constantly  forsaken,  always 
open,  always  shone  upon  by  a  light  from  above, — the  guiding, 
helping  hand  ever  extended  to  the  wanderer. 

"  Elizabeth  has  gone  to  Lowell  to  watch  with  Mrs.  Ames's 
sick  child,  a  dear  little  creature  about  two  years  old,  whose 
case  the  physicians  have  pronounced  incurable.  .  .  .  We 
should  be  able  to  endure  our  own  troubles,  if  it  were  not 
for  sympathy  with  others.  Poor  Margaret  herself,  with  every- 
thing about  her  to  make  her  happy,  is  marked  with  the  seal 
of  death.  She  seems  to  me  like  one  of  my  own  children,  for 
I  had  almost  the  whole  care  of  her  in  her  infancy.  I  was  her 
only  teacher,  she  came  with  me  to  Waltham,  and  was  married 
at  our  house.  Who  can  call  life  tame  when  it  is  so  full  of 
wonder  and  sorrow  and  love  ?  .  .  .  You  realize  that  it  was 
wise  not  to  have  early  entangled  yourself  in  relations  that 
would  have  made  your  present  impracticable.  I  once  thought 
a  solitary  life  the  true  one,  and,  contrary  to  my  theory,  was 
moved  to  give  up  the  independence  of  an  attic  covered  with 
books  for  the  responsibilities  and  perplexities  of  a  parish  and 


1 84      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

a  family.  Yet  I  have  never  regretted  the  change.  Though 
I  have  suffered  much,  yet  I  have  enjoyed  much  and  learned 
more.  The  affections  as  they  multiply,  spread  out  in  rays  to 
the  circumference,  but  the  soul  returns,  not  driven  back  by 
desertion,  but  willingly,  to  its  true  centre,  the  God  within. 

"  The  time  draws  nigh  when  we  are  to  look  for  mother. 
The  beans  are  growing  finely,  and  we  are  looking  forward  to 
the  time  when  we  shall  gather  and  shell  them  together.  She 
will  be  with  us  at  our  commencement  holidays,  the  brightest 
days  to  us  of  all  the  year.  I  like  your  letters  to  mother  much  : 
you  tell  her  little  things  that  transport  us  at  once  to  the  place 
where  you  are :  we  meet  the  passengers  on  the  road,  carry 
their  bundles,  and  learn  the  secret  of  their  life.  We  stroke 
the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  children  as  they  prattle  to  you  of  the 
flowers,  and  we  think  of  Werther.  Apropos  of  Werther,  you 
express  astonishment  that  it  should  interest  me.  Remember 
that  I  have  come  to  the  age  when  a  piece  of  psychology  in- 
terests me  as  much  as  a  new  and  curious  subject  for  dissection 
does  the  doctor.  .  .  .  Continue  your  laudable  practice  of  gath- 
ering and  preserving  specimens  for  your  friends  this  side  of 
the  ocean.  The  blue  pond-weed  is  now  in  blossom,  with  many 
an  asclepias  of  divers  hues.  The  large  blue  flowers  of  the 
succory  grace  the  corners  of  the  road,  and  the  spiraeas  and 
eupatoria  are  just  about  to  unfold  their  blossoms.  I  am  at 
my  usual  seat  on  the  benches  under  the  locust-trees  every 
morning,  listening  also  as  usual  to  Horace  and  Virgil.  This 
morning  I  took  the  letters  with  me,  to  read  and  enjoy  during 
the  intervals  of  the  going  and  coming  of  the  youth.  William 
L.  takes  an  interest :  so  I  read  to  him  the  story  about  the 
peasant  with  the  bundle,  etc.,  that  he  might  have  something 
to  tell  his  mother,  and  explained  to  him  what  I  thought  were 
the  true  objects  of  traveling.  How  much  your  interest  in 
the  battle-marked  fields  must  have  been  increased  by  having 
so  lately  read  Alison  ! 

"  I  have  just  received  a  beautiful  edition  of  a  French  work 
on  botany  according  to  the  present  mode  of  analysis,  from 
Dr.  Gray.     As  far  as  I  have  read,  the  author  has  introduced 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  ^5 

me  to  nothing  new,  but  yet  there  is  great  pleasure  in  getting 
at  the  mind  of  a  man  of  genius  through  his  scientific  method. 
The  way  in  which  he  holds  up  his  subject  and  unfolds  its 
wonders  to  your  view  is  always  his  own.  The  French  are 
remarkable  in  this  line.  Their  mathematics  and  chemistry 
and  botany  are  well  worth  reading  as  specimens  of  genius." 


"The  twilight  has  closed  in  upon  me,  so  I  close  the  book, 
the  '  Samson  Agonistes,'  the  noble  poem,  so  classic  in  its  form 
that  it  transports  you  to  the  grove  of  the  avenging  deities  in 
front  of  Athens,  while  its  holy  music  and  exalted  sentiment 
descend  from  Zion's  hill,  or  flow  from  Siloa's  brook,  '  fast  by 
the  oracle  of  God.'  .  .  . 

"  I  recognize  my  obligations  to  Christianity  as  the  chief 
factor  in  the  product  of  my  present  mind.  The  germ  of  in- 
tuition lies  buried  in  every  soul ;  the  inspired  man  speaks,  and 
it  responds.  Watered  in  youth  by  the  silent  dews  of  his 
divine  utterances,  warmed  by  his  image  or  the  faint  reflection 
of  it  in  the  lives  of  those  we  love  and  trust,  holy  intuitions 
unfold  in  foliage,  too  often  unconscious  of  the  secret  source 
by  which  they  live.  A  miracle  in  the  popular  sense  my  mind 
rejects.  Cannot  we  love  and  disagree?  I  can  not  only  love 
but  respect  in  you  the  different  phases." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Mr.  Simmons  returned  from  Europe  in  the  autumn  of  1845. 
Very  soon  afterward  he  was  married  to  Miss  Mary  Emerson 
Ripley,  Mrs.  Ripley's  second  daughter. 

In  the  spring  of  1846  the  Ripley  family  left  behind  them 
the  cares  of  parish  and  boarding-school,  and  removed  to  the 
"  Old  Manse"  in  Concord,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Concord 


1 86.     WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

River,  and  within  sight  of  the  spot  where  the  first  repulse  was 
given  to  the  British  troops  in  the  war  of  our  independence. 
Their  return  was  the  event  which  caused  the  removal  of  Haw- 
thorne, who  had  occupied  the  manse  for  a  time  after  the  death 
of  Mr.  Ripley's  father,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ezra  Ripley.  Dr.  Ripley 
had  lived  there  for  more  than  sixty  years,  as  the  minister  of 
the  town.  The  mother  of  Mr.  Ripley,  at  the  time  of  her 
marriage  to  Dr.  Ripley,  was  the  widow  of  his  predecessor, 
the  Rev.  William  Emerson,  for  whom  the  manse  was  built. 
This  lady  was  also  the  daughter  of  a  former  minister,  Rev. 
Daniel  Bliss,  and  granddaughter  and  great-granddaughter 
of  the  two  Bulkeleys,  still  earlier  pastors  of  the  old  town. 
Thus  the  family  came  with  every  hereditary  claim  to  the 
respect  and  affection  of  their  neighbors  in  Concord.  The 
presence  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  sister  Mrs.  Bartlett  and  her  family 
and  the  neighborhood  of  her  kinsman  Mr.  Emerson,  were  a 
great  pleasure  to  her.  Her  youngest  son,  Ezra,  was  in  his 
senior  year  at  Harvard  College,  and  the  two  youngest  girls 
were  at  school  in  Boston.  The  elder  children  were  busy  else- 
where with  the  tasks  of  life,  but  flitted  in  and  out  from  time 
to  time  with  news  of  the  world  and  of  friends. 

The  simple  but  complete  hospitality  of  the  house  was  not 
less  than  in  Waltham,  nor  did  "  due  feet  ever  fail"  to  seek  the 
blessed  threshold  where  so  cordial  a  welcome  and  such  in- 
spiring society  awaited  them.  Mr.  Ripley  writes  to  his  sister 
at  this  time,  "  We  have  a  quiet  and  industrious  life  in  this 
pleasant  spot.  I  enjoy  it  more  and  more  every  day,  and  Sarah 
is  perfectly  happy.  She  works  hard  all  the  time,  but  has 
nothing  to  trouble  or  vex  her."  Gathering  currants  and 
raspberries,  or  peas  and  asparagus,  from  the  garden,  or  in  the 
house,  cooking,  dusting,  or  mending, — her  mind  and  heart 
were  free  while  her  hands  worked ;  and  her  friends  were  at 
liberty  to  follow  her  in  household  tasks  of  which  she  never 
made  any  secret  or  any  boast.  It  was  in  this  way  that  she 
simplified  very  much  the  problems  of  social  intercourse  and 
hospitality. 

She  still  received  scholars,  one  or  two  at  a  time, — but  not  as 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  1 87 

members  of  her  family, — to  fit  for  college,  or  to  carry  them  on 
in  advanced  studies  when  exiled  for  a  season  from  college  for 
idleness  or  misdemeanor.  It  may  have  been  the  desire  or  the 
necessity  of  teaching  others  that  drew  her  to  the  study  of 
mathematics  and  the  exact  sciences,  of  which  we  find  little 
mention  in  her  early  letters  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  she  was  a 
capable  and  inspiring  teacher  of  these  subjects,  and  sent  her 
youths  back  to  college  with  new  insight  and  inspiration,  and 
fit  to  take  their  places  in  the  higher  classes. 

On  the  evening  of  the  24th  November,  1847,  the  family 
circle  was  gathering  for  the  next  day's  Thanksgiving  festival. 
It  was  dark  and  stormy.  The  father  had  gone  for  the  third 
time  with  his  carriage  to  bring  the  last  installment  of  children 
and  kindred  from  the  railroad,  when  he  suddenly  fell  back  in 
the  carriage  upon  the  shoulder  of  his  eldest  daughter,  and 
never  spoke  again.  "  His  own  affectionate  heart,"  said  Mrs. 
Ripley,  "  was  spared  the  pain  of  parting." 

The  following  letter  to  Mrs.  Ripley  from  Mr.  Emerson> 
then  in  England,  will  show  what  a  cordial  affection  her  hus- 
band had  inspired  in  his  friends : 

MR.  K.  W.  EMERSON    TO    MRS.  RIPLEY. 

"  Manchester,  England,  26th  December,  1847. 
"  My  dear  Friend, — 

"  I  heard  with  surprise  and  grief  of  your  loss,  and  the  shock 
with  which  it  came, — the  greatest  loss  to  you  and  to  all  your 
household, — without  repair;  the  loss  to  me  also  of  a  dear  old 
friend,  like  whom  I  have  now  few  or  none.  He  was  the  hoop 
that  held  us  all  staunch,  with  his  sympathies  of  family  and 
with  that  disinterestedness  which  we  have  hardly  witnessed  in 
any  other  person.  What  rare  devotion  to  his  friends !  What 
a  cloud  of  witnesses  I  recall  who  will  thankfully  and  affection- 
ately press  his  claims  to  almost  the  first  place  among  faithful 
and  efficient  benefactors !  I  may  well  say  benefactor,  for  in 
will  and  in  act  he  was  both  early  and  late  one  of  mine, — and 
never  otherwise.  ...  I  know  not  where  we  shall  find  in  a 


1 88      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

man  of  his  station  and  experience  a  heart  so  large,  or  a  spirit 
so  blameless  and  of  a  childlike  innocence.  L.  writes  me  very 
truly  of  the  '  opportunity'  of  his  death  at  a  moment  and  in  an 
act  so  characteristic.  Yes,  it  is  so;  and  yet  he  was  never  out 
of  character,  and,  at  any  time,  would  have  been  found  in  his 
place.  How  sad  it  is,  and  will  be  !  He  had  reached  his 
chosen  place,  and  all  things  were  taking  happiest  form  and 
order  under  his  care.  Tis  sorrowful  that  such  a  felicity  should 
be  broken  up,  and  that  you  should  be  forced  now  to  recon- 
struct your  home.  But  he  has  not  withdrawn  far.  He  has 
identified  himself  so  much  with  life  and  the  living  that  we 
shall  find  him*  everywhere  a  presence  of  good  omen.  My 
love  to  Elizabeth,  and  Mary,  and  Gore,  and  to  all  the  children. 
He  has  stood  by  them  until  they  were  sufficient  to  themselves, 
and  has  enjoyed  their  security  and  success. — And  now  that 
he  has  gone  who  bound  us  by  blood,  I  think  we  must  draw  a 
little  nearer  together,  for  at  this  time  of  day  we  cannot  afford 
to  spare  any  friends.  I  wonder  to  think — here,  with  the  ocean 
betwixt  us — that  I  have  suffered  you  to  live  so  near  me  and 
have  not  won  from  the  weeks  and  months  more  frequent  in- 
tercourse. I  hope  L.  has  cheered  you  by  communicating 
her  hearty  affection  for  all  she  beheld  in  your  husband  To 
my  mother  he  is  an  irreparable  loss.  As  I  look  homeward 
now,  I  miss  a  friend  who  constituted  much  of  its  worth  and 
attraction  for  me.     But   I   must  write  you  again  with   more 

hope. 

"  Most  affectionately  yours, 

"  Waldo  E." 

In  1852,  Anne,  the  youngest  but  one  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  chil- 
dren, who  had  been  married  about  three  years  before  to  Mr 
George  Loring,  then  of  Concord,  died  in  her  mother's  house, 
where  she  was  taken  ill  on  a  visit,  leaving  a  little  boy  of  less 
than  two  years  old  to  her  mother's  and  sisters'  care. 

The  next  break  in  the  circle  was  the  death  of  her  beloved 
friend  and  son-in-law,  Mr.  Simmons,*  who  after  leaving  Wal- 

*  Of  this  brilliant  and  accomplished  man  bat  little  permanent  record  remains. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


189 


tham  had  been  settled  successively  in  Springfield  and  Albany, 
and  who  came  home  to  die  of  consumption,  in  the  house  which 
his  mother  had  built,  next  to  the  "  Old  Manse."  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons had  been  drawn  thither  from  Boston  by  the  friendship 
which  had  grown  up  between  the  two  mothers  and  their  fam- 
ilies. After  his  death  his  wife  and  children  lived  with  Mrs. 
Ripley  in  the  manse,  the  declining  health  of  the  elder  Mrs. 
Simmons  requiring  quiet  and  freedom  from  the  noisy  life  of 
young  children.  In  a  few  years  Mrs.  Simmons  died.  After 
this  the  younger  Mrs.  Simmons  removed  to  the  house  which 
her  children  inherited  from  their  grandmother.  But  this  was 
so  near  to  the  manse  that  it  was  hardly  a  separation.  In  the 
year  i860  the  youngest  of  these  children,  a  beautiful  girl  of 
five  years,  was  taken  away  from  the  little  group  by  death, — 
another  sorrow  for  that  sympathizing  heart  which  more  than 
ever  lived  in  the  life  of  her  children.  The  death  of  Mrs. 
Bartlett,  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Ripley,  soon  followed.  And  then 
came  the  war,  which  laid  such  a  load  upon  the  hearts  of 
parents,  and  of  those  who,  loving  their  country  as  one,  coula 
not  be  at  peace  while  she  was  divided,  or  while  other  hearts 
bled.  Many  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  former  pupils  and  the  sons  of 
her  friends  and  pupils,  the  flower  of  our  youth,  were  in  the 
army.  Her  own  youngest  son,  Ezra,  was  there,  and  died  in 
1863,  on  the  Mississippi,  near  Vicksburg,  in  the  service  of  the 
Union,  leaving  a  young  wife  tenderly  loved  by  his  family. 


He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1832,  and  died  in  the  summer  of  1855. 
He  was  first  settled  over  the  Unitarian  Society  at  Mobile;  but  his  conscience 
moved  him  there  to  utterances  upon  the  subject  of  slavery  which  were  as  coura- 
geous as  they  were  unwelcome,  and  he  was  forced  to  leave  the  city  for  fear  of  a 
mob ;  nor  was  this  the  only  instance  in  which  he  bore  brave  testimony  on  this 
subject.  Three  of  his  children  survive, — two  sons  and  a  daughter, — children 
that  are  worthy  of  him.  During  his  last  illness  he  selected  a  few  sermons  which 
he  desired  should  be  privately  printed  as  his  latest  gift  to  certain  friends,  and 
wrote  what  he  called  a  "  Fragment  of  a  Preface''  for  the  little  book.  These  dis 
courses,  entitled  "Six  Sermons,"  and  the  words  of  singular  beauty  with  whic> 
they  are  prefaced,  are  a  worthy  but  all  too  brief  memorial, — thoughtful,  devout, 
and  high-minded.  "  There  is  here,"  he  truly  says,  "  no  conceit  or  hollow  declama- 
tion, but  sincere  thought,  such  as  I  am  capable  of;    and  the  themes  are  large." 


IO/o      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

All  these  events  and  anxieties  laid  a  most  heavy  burden 
upon  her  loving  and  tender  heart.  Her  youngest  daughter, 
married*  just  before  the  beginning  of  the  war,  still  remains, 
however,  "  a  star  of  hope,"  "  a  haven  of  rest,"  amid  the  sad 
forebodings  and  sorrows  of  the  times.  The  young  pair  settled 
at  Milton,  and  after  a  time  assumed  the  care  of  the  little  or- 
phan boy,  their  sister  Annie's  child,  who  had  grown  too  old 
to  be  left  solely  to  feminine  guidance;  an  arrangement  for 
which  Mrs.  Ripley's  satisfaction  and  gratitude  find  continual 
expression  in  her  letters.  With  her  daughter  Mrs.  Simmons  at 
the  next  door,  the  life  of  growing  children  was  still  a  constant 
spring  of  interest  and  hope.  Elizabeth,  the  eldest  daughter, 
now  the  housekeeper  of  the  manse,  gave  always  the  same 
hospitable  welcome  to  old  and  newer  friends  which  had  dis- 
tinguished the  Waltham  home,  and  many  were  the  cordial 
gatherings  that  kept  alive  the  social  flame — where  each 
brought  some  contribution  of  fragrant  wood  or  spice  to  cast 
upon  the  fire.  Visits  to  her  daughter  at  Milton,  and  the 
hopes  and  joys  that  came  into  her  life  with  the  birth  of  her 
daughter's  two  boys,  of  whom  the  grandmamma  now  made 
herself  the  playfellow,  varied  her  life  with  scenes  in  which  no 
sad  associations  bore  a  part. 

Among  the  letters  belonging  to  the  period  following  Mrs. 
Ripley's  removal  to  Concord,  there  are  two  or  three  to  Mrs. 
Francis  which  may  be  inserted  here : 

MRS.  RIPLEY    TO    MRS.  FRANCIS. 

1849. 

"  I  received,  dear  friend,  your  affectionate  note  and  invita- 
tion, but  cannot  accept,  as  I  have  engaged  to  prepare  two 
youths  for  college,  and  cannot  leave  them  any  day  but  Satur- 
day. So,  on  some  Saturday  when  baking  and  other  cares  do 
not  prevent,  I  shall  see  you,  I  hope.     But  why  not  come  and 


*  To  Mr.  James  B.  Thayer,  then  a  lawyer  in  Boston,  now  a  professor  in  tha 
Law  School  of  Harvard  University. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY 


I9I 


see  me?  I  do  wish  you  would.  It  seems  so  long  since  we 
have  walked  and  talked  together,  and  compared  notes  of  ex- 
perience as  we  have  been  wont  to  do  from  earliest  days.  Your 
form  and  face  the  first  time  I  saw  you  are  as  vivid  at  this 
moment  as  at  that.  How  long  a  piece  we  have  traveled  to- 
gether! Ere  long  we  shall  be  called  to  set  our  houses  in  order 
and  go,  we  know  not  whither.  But  death  is  an  event  as  natu- 
ral as  birth,  and  faith  makes  it  as  full  of  promise.  But  faith, 
alas  !  is  denied  to  certain  minds,  and  submission  must  take  its 
place.  The  Unknown,  which  lighted  the  morning  of  life,  will 
hallow  and  make  serene  its  evening.  Conscious  or  uncon- 
scious, we  shall  rest  in  the  lap  of  the  Infinite." 


"  Concord,  January  21st,  1S50. 

"  Dear  Friend, — 

"  I  am  grieved  to  learn  that  you  are  not  in  good  spirits. 
Now  that  you  know  where  the  seat  of  the  evil  is,  why  not 
come  to  Concord  to  refit?  Here  is  the  solid  day.  '  Hie  focus, 
et  tczdes  pingueSy  hie  plurinms  ignis! — 'Sunt  nobis  mitia  poma* 
— '  Pocula  *  *  novo  spumantia  lacte!  Come,  let  us  have  a 
revival  in  friendship ;  let  us  realize  the  dreams  of  our  youth. 
I  know  you  will  think  your  place  at  home  cannot  be  sup- 
plied ;  but,  dear  Abba,  this  is  the  form  the  fiend  takes  when 
the  pressure  of  the  responsibilities  of  life  is  breaking  down 
the  conscientious,  self-devoted  spirit.  The  balance  between 
soul  and  body  must  be  restored,  if  you  would  effectually 
help  those  you  love,  and  I  know  they  must  be  ready  to  make 
any  sacrifices  which  your  absence  from  home  may  require. 
Come,  not  for  days  or  weeks,  but  till  the  tabernacle  of  flesh  is 
in  thorough  repair.  I  cannot  say  how  much  I  should  enjoy 
your  presence,  dear  friend  of  my  earliest  and  best  days.  Did 
not  your  father  then  smile  on  our  union  ?  Let  us  live  for  a 
while  in  the  past. 

"  Yours  with  undying  love, 

"  S.  A.  R." 


1 92      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"Concord,  October  28th,  1S50. 
"  Dear  Friend, — 

"  The  yearly  offering  of  the  Old  Manse  comes  this  year  in 
the  shape  of  early  apples,  the  russets  not  being  in  eating  yet. 
John  L.  Russell  made  me  a  visit  yesterday  with  his  microscope, ' 
"and  showed  me  the  internal  structure  of  mosses  and  lichens. 
I  had  seen  engravings  of  the  same  before,  but  never  the  beau- 
tiful and  curious  organization  itself.  How  J  wished  you  were 
here,  you,  the  one  among  many,  who  have  eyes  and  ears  for 
such  things  !  Dearest  friend,  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  before 
winter  shuts  us  in  ;  ever  welcome  will  your  presence  be  to  us." 


A  few  letters  to  her  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Gamaliel  Bradford, 
and  to  her  niece,  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  Bradford,  are  here 
added : 

MRS.  RIPLEY   TO    MRS.  BRADFORD. 

"  Concord,  Nov.  30th,  1854. 
"  Dear  Sophia, — 

"  Friendship  is  better  than  mince-pies  :  this  is  the  text.  The 
subject  is,  that,  friends  being  absent  and  money  scarce,  this  is 
the  first  Thanksgiving  Day  in  my  life  for  which  we  have  pro- 
vided neither  turkey  nor  pie,  and  so  I  have  time  to  tell  you 
how  much  I  think  of  you.  How  could  I  help  it  on  this  day 
consecrated  to  social  festivities,  when  we  have  from  olden 
time  enjoyed  so  much  in  mutual  sympathies?  How  many 
times  our  hearts  have  beat  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  such  a 
glorious  sunshine  as  is  now  pouring  in  at  my  window,  when 
the  carriage  from  Lowell  and  that  from  Concord  were  sure  to 
bring  dear  Margaret  and  Martha  with  their  tribe,  to  meet  the 
friends  who  had  arrived  the  night  before!  What  a  buzz  of 
voices!  what  a  freedom  from  all  constraint!  Surely  our  family 
union  has  been  blessed,  and  on  its  remembrance  we  must  live, 
as  link  after  link  is  broken  in  the  chain  which  once  held  it 
together.     You  vvill  be  glad  to  hear  that  Manna  is  welJ  and 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


193 


expects  her  children.  Sophy  always  dines  with  them.  I  was 
so  sad  to  hear  that  you  had  been  sick  again ;  but  those  who 
brought  the  tidings  reported  you  better  and  cheerful.  I  have 
lately  received  two  letters  from  George,  the  first  for  several 
months.  Letters  from  Paris  must  have  been  lost  in  the  Arctic, 
"as  these  are  dated  from  Padua  and  Florence.  When  I  come 
to  see  you  I  will  bring  Phoebe's.  ...  I  must  leave  you  to  dress 
to  go  to  the  Emersons'.  We  are  going  four, — E.,  G.,  M.,  and 
myself.  I  suppose  we  shall  meet  Dr.  and  Mrs.  C.  T.  Jackson. 
The  doctor  is  agreeable  to  me,  he  has  so  much  to  tell  that  I 
want  to  know.  The  Lorings  have  had  the  dear  little  boy  for 
three  or  four  days,  else  we  should  take  him  with  us.  A  few  days 
of  absence  makes  me  sad  to  think  that  perhaps  the  time  may 
come  when  I  shall  lose  him  altogether.  What  should  I  do 
without  him !  His  little  roots  have  crept  into  my  whole  life : 
they  could  not  be  torn  out  without  taking  a  great  part  with 
them;  but  we  will  not  forebode.  Every  hour  brings  its  blessing 
as  well  as  its  sorrow.  Dear  Sophia,  I  could  say  much,  but 
have  no  time.     Yours,  with  much  love, 

"  Sarah." 


"  Concord,  August  21st,  1856. 
"  Dear  Sophia, — 

"  I  thought  you  would  like  to  hear  about  my  Duxbury  visit. 
We  found  them  well.  We  rode  to  the  beach  one  day,  and 
walked  to  the  pond  another.  The  music  of  past  days  sighs 
through  the  pines.  There  was  my  Arcadia.  How  my  heart 
used  to  beat  with  joy  when  I  caught  the  first  glimpse  of 
the  old  church-spire  as  it  appeared  and  re-appeared  through 
the  woods  when  I  used  to  be  at  father's  side  in  the  chaise 
which  went  semi-annually  or  quarterly  to  carry  grandfather 
his  dividends!  The  old  house,  with  its  high  stone  steps,  the 
barrels  on  each  side  filled  with  morning-glories  and  nastur- 
tiums, which,  entwined,  hung  in  festoons  over  the  old  door; 
the  little  parlor  and  old  easy-chair  in  which  we  always  found 
the  palsied  old  man,  who  received  us  with  tearful  embraces; 

13 


194 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


the  great  pear-tree  at  the  gate,  full  of  orange  pears ;  the 
ground  strewed  with  golden  high-tops ;  the  girl  in  the  corn- 
barn  paring  apples  to  dry ;  the  woods  filled  with  huckleber- 
ries ; — how  sadly  they  blend  to  connect  the  past  with  the 
present  and  contrast  with  the  future !  Why  is  it  that  we  so 
hold  on  to  the  garment  that  is  falling  from  us,  and  look 
behind  as  we  go  onward  ?  But  enough  of  this.  I  was  more 
than  ever  impressed  with  the  reality  that  we  belong  together, 
this  visit,  than  before.  I  hope  you  will  never  stay  away  from 
us  so  long  again.  We  had  a  letter  from  Gore*  yesterday,  re- 
porting rather  more  comfortable  circumstances,  as  his  house 
is  finished  ;  but  he  has  still  to  do  his  own  house-work.  I  hope, 
dear  Sophia,  you  will  not  be  sick  again.     Good-night,  with 

much  love. 

"  S.  A.  R." 


"  Dear  Sophia, — 

"  Phcebe  reports  you  not  well.  Do  take  care  of  yourself  and 
expel  the  cough.  Hearing  that  you  are  not  well  reminds  me 
what  it  would  be  to  lose  your  loving  society.  We  have  kept 
step  together  through  a  long  piece  of  road  in  the  weary 
journey  of  life :  we  have  loved  the  same  beings  and  wept 
together  over  their  graves.  I  have  not  your  faith  to  con- 
sole me,  as  they  drop  one  after  another  from  my  side ;  yet 
my  will,  I  trust,  is  in  harmony  with  the  divine  order,  and  re- 
signed where  light  is  wanting.  The  sun  looks  brighter  and 
my  home  more  tranquil  as  the  evening  of  life  draws  near. 
Would  to  heaven  that  the  lives  of  the  dear  ones  that  remain 
could  be  insured  to  me  till  its  end!  Then  I  could  fold  my 
hands  in  perfect  peace,  ready,  if  such  is  the  law  of  finite  ex- 
istence, to  breathe  the  last  breath  of  consciousness  into  the 
infinite  source  of  light  and  love  whence  it  came. 

"  You  cannot  think  how  much  I  expect  to  enjoy  a  visit  from 
you,  now  that  I  am  a  spare  hand  and  so  have  plenty  of  leisure 

*  He  had  recently  gone  to  Minnesota. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  195 

to  walk  and  talk  and  sympathize  with  those  with  whom  I  have 
gone  hand  in  hand  through  so  many  years  of  joy  and  sorrow. 
...  If  you  are  not  well  enough  to  come  soon,  I  am  all  ready 
to  come  to  you  ;  I  can  come  any  day,  but  it  would  be  so  much 
more  to  me  to  have  you  here.  Don't  talk  about  the  house 
being  full;  it  is  Mary's  life  to  keep  it  full,  and  no  one  would 
enjoy  a  visit  from  you  and  Sarah  more  or  so  much  as  Mary. 
Dear  sister,  do  come,  if  you  can ;  if  not,  I  will  come  to  you." 


[1859-] 
"  Dear  Sophia, — 

"  Can  there  be  a  possible  chance  that  I  may  never  look 
upon  your  dear  face  again  ?  Am  I  to  stand  on  the  declivity 
of  life,  while  one  after  another  drops  from  my  side  of  those 
who  have  been  so  long  parts  of  myself?  You  are  the  vision 
of  my  nights ;  you  appear  to  me  for  the  first  time  in  the  little 
parlor  of  the  house  in  South  Street,  a  graceful  and  bright 
being  of  sixteen  or  seventeen,  with  a  becoming  straw  hat  and 
a  most  agreeable  smile.  I  still  see  the  corner  of  the  room 
where  you  sat,  though  I  see  nothing  else  connected  with  the 
visit.  Then  the  scene  changes  to  your  uncle  Blake's,  where 
I  found  you  one  morning  practicing  on  the  guitar  before  the 
family  had  arisen  from  their  beds.  After  your  closer  connec- 
tion with  us  as  a  family,  our  interviews  so  crowd  together  in 
the  background  of  the  past  that  I  am  kept  awake  as  if  solving 
a  mathematical  problem  to  arrange  them  in  their  proper  time 
and  place  as  they  press  in  confusion  upon  the  scene.  How 
much  we  enjoyed  those  evening  rides  to  Cambridge,  to  the 
house  you  had  planned  and  built,  where  we  forgot,  for  an  hour 
or  two,  the  school  bondage  of  home  !  How  much  you  did  to 
soften  the  pillow  of  decline  and  death  for  the  father  I  loved 
and  respected  so  much!  How  can  I  recall  or  arrange  the 
happy  meetings  we  have  had  together  as  a  family  in  Waltham 
or  Lowell !  How  much  you  were  to  dear  Margaret !  How 
much  Martha  has  always  enjoyed,  and  still  enjoys,  your  society ! 
Do  you  wonder  that  I  should  desire  to  see  you  now?    Still,  I 


I96      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

should  not  be  willing  to  see  you  at  the  risk  of  exciting  and 

doing  you  harm.    So  I  will  try  to  content  myself  with  thinking 

of  you  with  hope  when  I  can.     But  sorrow,  not  hope,  is  the 

color  of  old  age. 

"  Your  Sister." 


MRS.    RIPLEY   TO    HER    NIECE    MISS    SARAH    H.    BRADFORD. 

[i860.] 

"  Dear  Sarah, — 

"  Crowned  with  the  modish  cap  you  were  so  kind  as  to  send 
me,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  take  a  seat  at  your  conservative 
dinner-table,  as  a  citizen  of  the  rebellious  town  where  the  first 
blood  was  spilt  in  the  Revolutionary  War.  There  is  no  need 
of  Christmas-presents  to  keep  bright  the  chain  which  binds 
me  to  you  all.  Your  last  visit  left  behind  a  flavor  which  will 
not  soon  pass  away. 

"  Tell  your  mother  how  much  I  thought  of  her  on  the  day 
of  Mrs.  Simmons's  funeral.  It  was  a  consecrated  hour.  The 
bright  sun  shone  through  the  large  window  in  the  little  parlor 
where  we  have  together  sympathized  in  joy  and  sorrow.  No 
discordant  element  was  mingled  in  the  little  circle  which  had 
loved  and  served  her.  Mr.  Clarke  said  to  Elizabeth  when  he 
took  the  chair  by  her  side,  '  Your  mother  is  gone :  you  have 
been  a  daughter  to  her.'  Mr.  Clarke  said  not  a  word  too 
much.  He  has  known  her  long  and  intimately,  her  sons  were 
in  college  with  him,  and  she  was  one  of  the  first  who  joined 
his  free  church.  He  has  visited  her  often  since  she  has  been 
in  Concord.  I  cannot  tell  your  mother  in  this  note  what  I 
want  to  say,  and  can  give  you  no  idea  of  our  love  and  desire 
to  see  your  face  among  us  all  again." 

In  April,  1861,  Mrs.  Ripley's  youngest  daughter  was  married 
to  Mr.  James  B.  Thayer.  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Thayer  for 
the  following  sketch  of  Mrs.  Ripley  as  she  appeared  in  her 
later  years : 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Ripley  was  confined  to  the 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


I97 


last  ten  or  twelve  years  of  her  life.  I  first  spoke  with  her  in 
1855  :  it  was  at  her  own  house,  where  I  was  a  chance  visitor; 
and  I  shall  never  forget  the  simple  cordiality  of  her  reception 
and  her  conversation.  It  was  nearly  four  years  before  I  saw 
her  again,  and  then  I  came  to  her  house  as  one  who  was  to 
be  her  son-in-law.  From  that  time  until  her  death  I  had  an 
intercourse  with  her  of  increasing  intimacy  and  affection.  A 
person  of  a  more  sweet,  sympathetic,  and  feminine  character 
I  never  saw;  she  was  the  very  soul  of  gentleness.  And  with 
these  special  womanly  charms,  she  had  a  masculine  strength 
of  understanding.  So  vivacious  and  penetrating  was  her  intel- 
ligence, such  wit,  such  learning  had  she,  and  such  a  cordial, 
wide  hospitality  of  thought,  that  one  came  to  her  not  merely 
for  the  most  kind  sympathy  that  she  always  gave,  but  for  that 
total  intercourse  of  thought  and  sentiment  which  is  the  high- 
est and  most  blessed  thing  that  can  take  place  between  two 
human  beings.  To  sit  with  her  through  a  long  morning  in  her 
little  sunny  parlor,  or  to  walk  with  her  on  an  autumn  day 
under  the  yellow  light  of  the  maples  and  talk  of  the  subjects 
that  most  engaged  her  kindly  and  elevated  spirit,  was  perfect 
happiness.  In  her  sweet  presence  it  was  always  'a  season  of 
calm  weather;'  cares  fell  away,  and  the  intellect,  in  that  beau- 
tiful atmosphere,  had  sight  of  great  and  animating  thoughts. 

"  But  all  this  tells  little  that  can  help  a  stranger  to  any  pre- 
cise knowledge  of  her.  How  shall  one  convey  to  a  person 
that  did  not  know  her  some  more  definite  impression? 

"  In  her  bearing  there  was  nothing  of  the  woman  of  society  ; 
all  was  peculiarly  plain  and  simple;  and  yet  nothing  could 
have  improved  it.  She  was  spare  of  figure  and  rather  tall. 
Her  head  was  of  a  beautiful  shape,  and  its  comely,  ample  hair, 
once  of  a  dark  brown,  but  early  turned  gray,  was  partially 
covered  with  a  cap.  Her  complexion  was  fair,  and  her  face 
full  of  healthy  color ;  her  eyes  were  clear  blue,  and  of  a  won- 
derful quickness  of  movement,  of  a  good  size  and  rather  near 
together ;  her  nose  was  regular  in  shape,  straight,  prominent, 
and  handsome ;  her  mouth  large,  but  delicate  and  full  of  sen- 
sibility.    As  to  the  total  expression  of  the  face,  it  was  most 


198      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

attractive, — brimful  of  sense,  character,  and  swift  intelligence; 
but  perhaps  the  chief  charm  of  it,  like  that  of  her  rich  and 
exquisite  voice,  was  a  certain  delightful  kindness.  Her  man- 
ner, as  I  have  indicated,  was  wholly  unconventional,  sim- 
ple and  friendly :  without  being  precisely  shy,  she  often  gave 
one  the  impression  of  an  unobtrusive  yet  extreme  solicitude 
to  be  in  nobody's  way :  it  was  the  manner  of  one  who  wished 
only  for  the  pleasure  of  listening,  and  of  quietly  helping  on 
the  comfort  of  others.  But  when  she  was  sure  of  her  com- 
pany, how  cheerfully  and  how  fast  she  talked  !  how  respon- 
sive she  was  to  everything  gay  and  animated,  and  how  she 
lost  herself,  so  to  speak,  in  the  general  soul  !  Hers  was  no 
meagre  or  starved  nature,  but  a  warm  and  cordial  one. 

"  But  when  I  speak  of  her  '  helping  on'  the  happiness  of 
others,  I  am  reminded  of  the  absence  of  what  might  seem 
like  an  effort  to  help  on  anything.  All  things  came  from 
her  as  the  untroubled  outflow  of  a  sweet  nature ;  it  seemed 
that  she  could  never  proceed  by  the  methods  of  labor  and 
discipline.  And  yet,  when  one  stopped  to  consider  how  la- 
borious her  life  had  been,  how  dedicated  to  her  household 
and  to  her  husband's  school  and  parish,  one  saw  embodied 
in  these  quiet  ways  the  result  of  a  life  full  of  self-denial  and 
steadily  conformed  to  the  law  of  duty. 

"As  to  her  habits  of  life,  her  letters  will  show  how  frugal 
they  were.  Neither  Mrs.  Ripley  nor  her  husband  had  in- 
herited any  property  which  contributed  to  their  support,  and 
they  had  supplemented  the  small  salary  of  a  country  minister 
by  the  income  of  their  boarding-school.  In  this  way  a  modest 
property  had  been  laid  by,  which  was  the  chief  support  of  the 
family  after  moving  to  Concord;  but  the  comfort  of  Mrs. 
Ripley  during  her  later  years  was  materially  increased  by  the 
gifts,  as  thoughtful  as  they  were  generous,  of  her  friend  Miss 
Elizabeth  Joy,  of  Waltham.  For  eight  years  after  the  family 
moved  to  Concord  Mrs.  Ripley  had  no  servant;  and  during 
three  of  these  years,  while  her  youngest  daughter  went  daily 
to  a  school  in  Boston,  she  rose  and  had  her  breakfast  ready 
by  half-past  five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


I99 


"  When  I  first  knew  Mrs.  Ripley,  Mrs.  Simmons,  her  well- 
loved  daughter  Mary,  whose  husband  had  died  in  1855,  was 
at  the  head  of  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Ripley  had  finally  given 
up  the  management  of  it.  She  was  then  no  longer  taking 
pupils.  In  the  summer  she  used  to  occupy  herself  for  a  while 
in  the  morning  with  the  garden,  gathering  vegetables  and  pre- 
paring them,  or  in  other  such  light  labor ;  generally,  at  least 
in  the  cooler  weather,  she  took  a  long  daily  walk,  even  up  to 
the  later  periods  of  her  life;  for  the  rest  she  betook  herself  to 
the  delights  of  her  books,  or  helped  in  the  care  of  the  grand- 
children whom  she  so  fondly  loved.  If  friends  came  in,  they 
were  sure  of  a  welcome  and  of  the  most  friendly  and  earnest 
conversation,  whenever  her  health  permitted.  In  general,  her 
health  was  good;  she  had  a  constitution  which  was  naturally 
strong  and  even  tough ;  but  at  Waltham  her  severe  labors  had 
sometimes  prostrated  her,  and  during  her  later  years  at  Con- 
cord she  had  one  or  two  serious  attacks  of  illness.  At  Walt- 
ham,  as  her  letters  show,  she  used  to  sit  up  late  into  the 
night,  finding  in  these  quiet  hours  the  best,  if  not  the  only, 
time  for  her  own  studies  and  correspondence  and  the  family 
sewing, — for  she  made  all  the  children's  clothes  and  did  all 
the  mending  of  the  family,  including  that  of  the  hired  man. 
At  Concord  she  went  early  to  bed,  but  always  waked  early 
in  the  morning.  She  ate  generously  from  a  simple  but  ad- 
mirably provided  table,  and  drank  both  coffee  and  tea;  nor 
did  she  on  occasion  decline  a  glass  of  wine,  although  this 
was  never  seen  on  her  own  table. 

"Mr.  Sanborn,  Mr.  Channing,  and  other  friends  kept  her 
largely  supplied  with  the  new  books,  and  she  read  them 
eagerly,  especially  some  of  the  newer  contributions  to  nat- 
ural science:  the  writings  of  Darwin  and  his  supporters  she 
cordially  welcomed.  She  read  few  novels.  Her  letters  show 
how  various  her  literary  work  had  been  during  her  earlier  life. 
She  had  been  a  student  of  metaphysics,  but  when  I  knew  her 
she  seemed  to  have  rested  from  her  severer  labors  and  turned 
especially  to  literature ;  she  read  at  this  time  a  good  deal  of 
German,  Italian,  and  French,  as  well  as  Latin  and  Greek; 


200      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Spanish,  also,  she  studied  in  her  last  years.  Of  Shakspeare 
and  Milton  she  read  much ;  of  Goethe,  Jean  Paul,  Rousseau, 
and  Cervantes  she  was  very  fond ;  and  so  of  Ariosto,  of  Eu- 
ripides, of  Theocritus,  of  Tacitus.  Botany,  and  especially  the 
study  of  lichens,  was  a  life-long  interest,  and  she  was  curious 
as  to  the  habits  of  animals,  especially  birds.  Her  intense  sym- 
pathy for  all  living  creatures  was  remarkable  :  and  very  pretty 
it  was  to  see  her  devotion  to  a  neglected  fowl  or  to  watch  her 
on  an  autumn  walk  as  she  held  some  chilled  butterfly  and 
brought  it  back  to  life  by  the  warmth  of  that  kindly  hand. 

"  She  used  often  to  visit  us  at  Milton,  and  once  a  year  went 
for  a  week  or  two  to  Duxbury.  At  Milton  she  always  ex- 
plored and  re-explored  my  little  library,  and  delighted  in  find- 
ing; now  and  then  something  that  was  new  to  her ;  I  remem- 
ber  especially  her  satisfaction  in  Masson's  Life  of  Milton.  But 
she  never  tired  of  her  old  authors,  and  often  called  on  us  to 
share  her  pleasure  in  the  great  phrases  of  the  Paradise  Lost, 
in  the  Life  of  Agricola,  in  an  ode  of  Pindar,  or  in  the  fifteenth 
idyll  of  Theocritus  ;  in  this  last  poem,  the  lively  and  natural 
gossip  of  the  two  Syracusan  women  was  something  of  which 
she  never  tired. 

"  But  why  do  I  not  speak  and  what  shall  I  not  say  of  her 
happiness  in  her  grandchildren,  and  of  theirs  in  her,  both  at 
Concord  and  at  Milton?  She  was  so  gentle  with  them,  so 
sympathetic,  so  quick  to  understand  them,  and  she  entered  so 
heartily  into  their  ways,  that  she  became  a  sort  of  contem- 
porary or  even  younger  playmate.  But  she  bred  in  them 
unconsciously  all  the  while  a  tenderness  and  sensibility  akin 
to  her  own ;  like  Wordsworth's  sister, — 

'  She  gave  them  eyes,  she  gave  them  ears, 
And  humble  cares  and  delicate  fears, 
A  heart  the  fountain  of  sweet  tears, 
And  love  and  thought  and  joy.' 

Alas  that  she  could  be  no  longer  with  them ! 

"At  Concord  she  did  not  visit  much,  but  was  rather  sought 
after  and  visited  by  others, — her  neighbors  and  her  old  pupils 
and  their  parents  or  friends;  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  however, 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  201 

she  used  to  dine,  with  all  her  family,  at  the  house  of  her  hus- 
band's kinsman  and  her  own  dear  friend,  Mr.  Emerson,  and  for 
many  years  she  passed  every  Sunday  evening  there.  Among 
the  visitors  to  her  own  house  were  many  strangers  who  had 
found  their  way  to  see  the  '  Old  Manse'  that  Hawthorne  had 
made  famous:  sometimes  these  visits  were  those  of  vulgar  in- 
trusion ;  in  such  cases  she  knew  how  to  protect  herself  by  a 
cold  reserve ;  for  affectation  or  servility  she  had  no  response. 

"  She  had  great  happiness  in  the  cheerful  and  assiduous  care 
of  her  children,  who  appreciated  and  loved  her  with  the  ut- 
most affection :  upon  their  care  she  grew  in  later  years  to 
be  very  dependent.  It  was  a  fine  sight  to  witness  the  last 
preparations  for  her  going  out  upon  a  call,  or  her  Sunday 
evening  walk  to  Mr.  Emerson's,  when  her  children  took  her 
in  hand,  swiftly  rejecting  much  that  she  had  done,  shaking 
her  up,  and  setting  her  to  rights, — while,  with  laughing  re- 
monstrances, she  yielded  to  the  cheerful  breeze. 

"  Had,  then,  this  sweet  and  wise  person  no  defects  ?  Of 
faults  I  know  not  one ;  but  there  were,  perhaps,  some  limita- 
tions of  thought  and  sympathy.  In  general,  she  inquired  little 
and  cared  not  much  to  concern  herself  about  the  conduct  of 
any  social  or  public  affairs ;  she  would  never  read  a  newspaper ; 
and  she  had  little  of  the  public  spirit  that  gave  so  much  char- 
acter to  the  life  of  her  contemporary,  Mrs.  Lyman,  of  North- 
ampton, whose  biography  has  lately  been  printed.  An  excep- 
tion ought  to  be  made  in  regard  to  the  anti-slavery  discussion, 
in  which  she  had  great  interest.  The  war,  also,  forced  itself 
most  tragically  upon  her  attention,  and  again  and  again  it 
bowed  her  down  with  sympathetic  distress;  for  she  had  many 
friends  in  the  army  on  both  sides,  and  her  own  youngest  son 
had  entered  on  the  side  of  the  Union,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
contest,  and  died  near  Vicksburg,  in  1863,  worn  out  with  labors 
heroically  assumed  and  heroically  carried  through. 

"  The  reader  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  letters  will  see  repeated  allu- 
sions to  what  she  called,  in  reference  to  certain  matters  of 
religion,  a  want  of  faith.  Akin  to  this  was  another  criticism 
upon  herself  which  I  have  heard  her  make, — that  she  lacked 


202      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY.    ■ 

somewhat  of  the  faculty  which   appreciates  the  imaginative 
aspects  of  nature. 

"As  to  this  last,  she  did  not  indeed  seem — certainly  while 
I  knew  her — to  care  much  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  her  admira- 
tions or  to  go  back  upon  them, — to  discriminate  and  bring 
to  light  the  particular  objects  or  grounds  of  her  liking.  But 
surely  she  had  a  very  keen  and  special  delight  in  nature,  and 
her  undiscriminated  happiness  in  it  seemed  worth  far  more 
than  any  analyzed  and  self-recognized  appreciation  of  the 
critic :  it  was  more  like  that  of  a  healthy  child,  who  is  not 
so  much  a  spectator  of  nature  as  a  sharer  with  it  in  a  common 
impulse  and  a  common  delight.  She  seemed,  as  she  herself 
says  somewhere  of  one  of  her  relatives,  to  belong  to  the  land- 
scape, and  to  be  the  companion  and  friend  of  the  natural 
objects  among  which  she  walked;  so  that  when,  during  the 
night  after  she  was  brought  home  to  the  '  Old  Manse,'  dead, 
one  of  the  tall  ash-trees  in  the  front  avenue  fell  and  in  the 
morning  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground, — it  was  like  a  hint  of 
sympathy  in  nature:  easy  was  it  then,  and  to  the  imagination 
neither  trivial  nor  untrue,  to  think  that  this  old  neighbor  had 
felt  the  shock  of  grief. 

"  And  something  of  the  same  sort  is  to  be  said  as  to  the 
religious  side  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  character.  In  her  youth  she 
had  been  deeply  impressed  on  religious  subjects,  and  had 
thought  and  studied  much  about  them  ;  but  her  mind,  a  keen 
and  analytic  one,  was  displeased  with  the  shallowness  of  much 
that  passes  current;  and  found  more  difficulties  also  in  ac- 
cepting some  of  the  best-received  opinions  than  it  could  meet. 
One  might  think,  whether  rightly  or  not,  that  she  was  too 
much  disposed  to  dwell  on  speculative  difficulties ;  that  she 
undervalued  certain  historical  and  traditional  aspects  of  the 
question,  or  did  not  enough  consider  the  necessary  conditions 
of  all  public  and  institutional  religion ;  that  she  was  too  un- 
willing to  entertain  some  great  and  ennobling,  but  unproved 
and  unprovable,  beliefs,  merely  as  being  dear  to  the  human 
heart;  that  she  lacked,  perhaps,  somewhat  of  the  religious 
imagination.     Certainly  her  thoughtful,  aspiring,  eager  spirit 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  203 

was  little  disposed  to  follow  along  the  ordinary  lines  of  reli- 
gious speculation  or  expression.  Rut  some  of  her  letters  will 
show  what  a  sweet  and  natural  piety  she  cherished  :*  she  had 
thought  too  much  and  was  too  large-minded  to  dogmatize, 
and  so  she  always  heartily  sympathized  with  others  in  their 
faith,  and  in  their  good  hopes  and  expectations ;  her  own  soul 
was  at  peace,  and  rested,  profoundly,  in  the  conviction  that  all 
is  well.  She  was  in  harmony  with  whatsoever  was  most  good, 
most  true,  and  most  spiritual.  If  any  noble  object  of  human 
aspiration  or  endeavor  were  brought  to  her  attention,  she 
thrilled  all  through  with  sympathy  for  it ;  if  there  were  any 
office  of  good  will  to  be  done,  however  humble  and  unwel- 
come, she  hastened  to  do  it.  And  she  seemed,  always,  as  one 
that  'lay  in  Abraham's  bosom  all  the  year.'  " 

A  few  out  of  many  letters  to  her  youngest  daughter,  Sophy, 
will  now  be  given.  To  this  daughter  are  addressed  most  of 
the  latest  letters,  beginning  with  the  date  of  her  marriage  and 
residence  in  Milton,  in  April,  ]  861,  and  ending  only  when  de- 
clining strength  denied  the  power  of  written  expression  to  the 
love  whose  flame  was  one  with  life. 

mrs.  ripley  to  her  daughter  mrs.  thayer. 

"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"  It  is  good  to  hear  from  you  so  often  by  your  visitors 
who  report  you  well  and  happy.  How  could  it  be  otherwise 
having  but  one  interest  with  a  friend  so  worthy  of  his  trust  ? 
I  am  living  in  the  prospect  of  seeing  you  soon,  but  I  am  afraid 
of  the  reaction  when  you  go.  I  was  so  brave  and  disinterested 
at  first  that  I  believed  all  selfishness  was  forever  merged  in  the 
thought  of  your  pleasant  and  happy  home.  We  hear  of  your 
visitors  still.  It  reminds  me  of  our  first  experience  of  Con- 
cord life.  The  weeks  were  marked  by  a  constant  series  of 
salutations  and  farewells.  There  is  no  danger  even  now  that 
the  hinges  of  the  doors  will  rust." 

*  See  especially  her  letter  to  Mr.  Simmons  of  April  22,  1845. 


204      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"  I  cannot  let  Lizzie  go  to  you  empty-handed,  though  the 
week's  stockings  from  both  houses  are  staring  me  in  the  face. 
The  asparagus  bed,  with  its  endless  weeds,  takes  great  part  of 
my  mornings,  but  neither  fruits,  flowers,  nor  weeds  can  vie 
with  you.  I  am  picking  up  some  strength  in  the  asparagus 
bed,  wrestling  with  the  weeds.  I  charge  you,  as  Dr.  Allyn 
did  the  old  minister  at  his  ordination,  to  set  out  an  asparagus 
bed.  You  can't  think  how  little  I  know  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  penetralia  of  the  establishment.  As  I  am  relieved 
from  its  duties,  I  am  secure  from  its  labors  and  vexations, 
which  I  hope  you  have  escaped  forever,  though  there  are  al- 
ways recruits  enough  in  the  march  of  life.  May  heaven  send 
you  a  niggard  share  and  give  you  strength  to  wrestle  with 
them!  If  you  have  no  more  stumbling-blocks  than  how  thick 
to  make  flour  starch,  I  fear  you  have  not  gone  far  in  the  march. 

"  I  want  all  the  family  to  see  how  pleasantly  you  are  situated. 
I  do  not  remember  particulars  enough  to  be  a  satisfactory 
narrator.  It  is  sad  to  think  that  I  am  so  fast  becoming  good 
for  nothing  for  society,  but,  thank  heaven,  I  led  a  lonely  life 
of  study  in  my  youth,  and  return  to  it  as  rest  with  satisfaction. 
Thank  heaven,  the  flowers  still  bloom,  the  birds  sing,  the 
Greek  tragedies  have  floated  down  the  stream  of  time,  I  can 
love  and  dream  still  of  those  who  are  dear  to  me,  till  absorbed 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Infinite  from  which  I  came. 

"  You  do  not  know  how  much  I  miss  you,  not  only  when  I 
struggle  in  and  out  of  my  mortal  envelopes,  and  pump  my 
nightly  potation,  and  no  longer  pour  into  your  sympathizing 
ear  my  senile  gossip;  but  all  the  day  I  muse  away,  almost  un- 
conscious that  I  am  a  member  still  of  this  busy  house,  since 
the  sound  of  your  voice  no  longer  rouses  me  to  sympathy  with 
your  joys  or  sorrows." 


"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"You  cannot  know  how  much  I  miss  your  affectionate 
demonstrations.  At  home  my  position  is  expected  to  be  that 
of  the  philosopher  ;  but,  alas  !  the  expectation  is  rarely  fulfilled. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  205 

The  tears  of  yesterday  are  nearly  dried  up,  and  I  hope  in 
small  domestic  offices  to  fill  up  the  days  to  come.  Beans  and 
stockings  will  come  in  to  aid,  and  then  there  is  one  bright 
spot, — Lizzie  Simmons  will  still  hold  on  ;  and  you  can  imagine 
how  satisfactory  it  will  be  to  listen  to  Tacitus,  a  pleasure  con- 
nected with  days  long  gone  by.  Humble  offices  will  while 
away  the  longest  day  when  devoted  to  love  or  duty,  and  the 
prospect  of  seeing  you  will  be  like  the  star  in  the  east,  to 
which  I  shall  look  like  the  shepherds  of  old.  There  is  often 
nowadays  a  solitude  of  the  heart  which  nothing  can  fill  ex- 
cept your  image;  but,  as  that  is  still  encircled  with  a  halo  of 
soft  and  sweet  enjoyment,  it  ought  to  be  as  satisfactory  at 
least  as  the  reality — that  is,  yourself — sweeping  or  sewing,  for 
the  old  house." 


"  G.'s  letter  of  yesterday  shows  that  he  is  disabused  of  his 
first  notion, — that  the  war  is  to  be  set  down  to  some  mistake 
or  mismanagement  on  the  part  of  the  President.  It  is  strange 
to  hear  him  talk  of  joining  the  army.  The  Northern  enthusi- 
asm gives  me  a  new  idea  of  the  love  of  country  as  an  idea 
realized.  Who  could  have  dreamed  a  year  ago  of  political 
cabals,  private  interests,  '  hunkerdom,'  as  Carlyle  would  call 
it,  merged  in  one  grand  stream  of  men  and  money  uniting  to 
preserve  the  Union  ?  I  neither  know  nor  care  for  politics  in 
any  form,  and  yet  I  am  drawn  into  the  vortex." 


[June,  1 86 1.] 

"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"  The  weekly  bulletin  due  from  my  den  will  be  delayed 
till  Monday  on  account  of  Ezra's  patriotism.  We  received 
a  message  from  him  that  on  Friday  he  should  appear  at  the 
Old  Manse  with  his  company,  and  should  expect  plenty  of 
lemonade  and  a  hearty  welcome.  They  marched  up,  as  the 
Fitchburg  Railroad  was  not  patriotic  enough  to  bring  them 
gratis ;  arrived  about  twelve  o'clock  at  Concord  Square,  found 


2o6       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

an  entertainment  provided  for  them  gratis  at  the  town  hall,  to 
which  the  two  families  contributed  cake  and  pies.  Emma,  as 
usual,  was  ready  with  sandwiches  and  other  dainties.  After 
the  repast  was  cheering,  and  Ezra  introduced  John  Garrison* 
to  them  and  explained  his  relation  to  Concord  and  himself, 
and  so  John  got  an  extra  cheer.  Then  they  moved  to  the  Mon- 
ument, followed,  of  course,  by  men,  women,  and  children. 
There  George  Brooks  welcomed  them  with  a  patriotic  address. 
We  went  through  the  orchard  and  looked  over  the  wall. 
After  the  speech  was  over  and  a  salute  returned,  they  leaped 
over  the  wall  and  marched  through  the  high  grass,  through 
the  entry,  and  out  of  the  front  door,  where  they  were  treated 
to  plenty  of  lemonade.  Then  Ezra  showed  them  the  minia- 
tures of  the  fathers  and  grandfathers  of  the  Revolution,  and, 
after  a  tremendous  noise  which  they  called  a  military  salute, 
they  turned  their  faces  homeward,  to  march  as  far  as  Lexing- 
ton, and  ride  from  there  to  Boston.  Ezra  expressed  his  grati- 
tude for  the  entertainment,  and  seemed  not  at  all  disposed  to 
give  up  his  purpose.  To  me  it  seemed  anything  but  a  merry 
meeting.  I  am  no  Spartan  mother. — I  am  looking  forward  to 
Phoebe's  vacation.  It  is  now  the  great  event  of  the  week  to 
look  for  her  on  Saturday.  I  have  not  had  the  sick  headache 
so  much  as  usual  since  I  gave  up  tea  for  wine,  but  I  cannot 
understand  why  I  am  available  for  so  little  in  the  way  of  walk- 
ing or  working  as  I  was  a  year  ago." 


"  We  are  sweeping  and  garnishing  your  room  for  Harriet. f 
I  look  forward  to  her  coming  to  mingle  my  tears  with  hers, 
for  it  is  heresy  here  to  be  sad  about  the  war.  How  undevel- 
oped a  race  must  be  that  cannot  settle  its  affairs  except  by 
blood  and  murder!    War  seems  to  me  no  better  than  legalized 

*  A  colored  man,  who  had  been  for  many  years  a  servant  of  the  family,  and 
who  was  a  much-esteemed  citizen  of  Concord. 
f  The  wife  of  her  son  Ezra. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


207 


murder.     But  women  do  not  know  much,  and  their  opinion 
is  only  worth  that  much. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  discouraged  by  hard  times :  the 
hardest  seem  to  me  to  be  the  loss  of  great  and  good  men.  I 
am  regarded  at  home  as  a  regular  '  croak.'  " 


"  Harriet  is  spending  the  week  with  us.  Her  cheerful  self- 
sacrifice  to  Ezra's  convictions  raises  her  much  in  my  esteem  ; 
he,  is  her  idol,  and  I  shudder  to  think  of  the  chances  of  war 
in  her  behalf.  He  seems  to  have  enough  to  do  for  his  fellow- 
beings,  and  to  enjoy  his  work." 


"  Sept. — If  anything  can  wake  me  from  the  nightmare  of 
war,  it  is  a  letter  in  your  handwriting.  I  have  just  now  es- 
caped from  my  room,  beneath  the  window  of  which  the  boys 
are  gathering  grapes  ;  Will  is  in  his  dancing  suit,  as  he  makes 
his  debut  in  the  art  so  important  to  the  young  man  when  he 
is  attracted  into  the  magic  circle  of  grace  and  beauty ;  he  has 
resisted  manfully,  but  is  obliged  to  surrender  at  last ;  he  has 
appeared  in  his  best  suit,  but  cannot  resist  a  bite  at  the  grapes, 
notwithstanding  many  premonitory  admonitions.  We  are  act- 
ually buried  beneath  pears  and  apples.  We  cannot  find  barrels 
or  baskets  to  receive  them  ;  and  our  neighbors  are  in  the  same 
predicament.  I  believe  Lizzy  begins  to  see  her  way  through 
them  by  her  administrative  and  philanthropic  skill. 

"  I  can  no  longer  aid  the  household  labors  by  paring  apples, 
as  my  fingers  have  made  a  stand :  so  I  withdraw  my  dimin- 
ished head,  and  give  myself  up  to  study, — study,  I  say,  for 
ordinary  reading  soon  ends  in  ennui  or  gaping.  I  am  now  in 
close  conflict  with  a  Spanish  singing  girl,  to  whom  I  am  often 
obliged  to  nod  instead  of  an  answer.  I  was  right  glad  to 
know  that  you  are  shaking  hands  with  your  old  friends  again. 
I  would  quote  Cicero  if  I  could  do  it  correctly,  '  Hccc  studio, 
juventutem  dclcctant'  etc., — but  you   can   find  the   sentence. 


208      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

How  pleasant  it  must  be  for  you  that  James's  tendencies  are 
in  the  same  direction !  I  always  count  upon  spurring  up  my 
drowsing  faculties  by  a  visit  at  Milton." 


"  Things  go  on  as  usual.  I  am  always  anxious  about  events, 
and  make  mountains  out  of  mole-hills.  Like  the  philosopher 
in  Rasselas,  I  shall  imagine  by  and  by  that  I  have  a  responsi- 
bility about  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  To  drive 
off  hobgoblins  I  have  taken  to  reading  Spanish,  and  have  de- 
feated Belisarius  and  plunged  into  a  real  Spanish  tale.  What 
a  vista  ! — a  whole  new  language  !  Mrs.  Goodwin  likes  to  hear 
reading,  so  I  read  French  novels  to  her  and  all  the  war  mat- 
ters, while  she  knits  and  sews  for  the  soldiers, — and  comfort 
my  conscience  in  that  way  for  my  shortcomings. 

"This  fearful,  destructive  war  clouds  my  horizon,  not  so 
much  for  what  I  have  at  stake  as  for  what  seem  to  me  the 
horrible  results  of  massacre  and  pillage.  I  sit  in  my  solitary 
chamber  'and  count  the  ghastly  phantoms  as  they  pass.'  " 


[Nov.  1 86 1.] 
"  A  terrific  night,  rain  pouring,  windows  rattling,  but  Lizzie 
is  up  to  all  occasions,  and  I  feel  as  safe  under  her  patrol  as  if 
it  were  a  regular  night-guard.  Uncle  George  and  Arly*  still 
cry  hallelujah  for  the  war,  but  such  a  sad  tale  as  that  of  young 
Putnamf  and  his  desolate  mother  breaks  my  heart.  Oh  for 
a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness,  far  from  the  echo  of  human 
sorrow !  I  wish  this  sad  topic  had  not  darkened  this  page  to 
you,  for  the  thought  of  you  and  your  happy  home  is  my  star 
by  night.  .  .  .  Yesterday  the  boys  set  forth  with  their  guns, 
but  it  rained,  and  they  returned  to  seek  entertainment,  quilt- 
ing balls  in  my  chamber.  I  contributed  old  stockings,  and 
they  quilted  each  a  ball,  which  destroyed  two  hours  at  least 
of  the  enemy." 


*  The  children's  word  for  "  Aunt  Lizzie," — Miss  Elizabeth  Ripley, 
f  William  Lowell  Putnam,  killed  at  Ball's  Bluff,  October  21,  1861. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


209 


"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  my  walk  round  the  square  this 
splendid  morning,  and,  now  that  I  have  recovered  breath, 
propose  to  devote  the  next  hour  to  you.  I  was,  or  rather  am, 
afraid  that  you  will  think  I  have  forgotten  you  after  such  a 
blank  in  the  line  of  correspondence ;  but  my  army  friends 
have  written  me  long  letters,  and  they  are  far  off  and  plead 
earnestly  for  home  news.  Charles  *  especially  writes  long  and 
interesting  letters,  with  ever  and  anon  a  flower  or  a  weed  un- 
like what  he  has  seen  at  home,  and  asks  for  its  name  or  that 
of  its  family.  We  shall  soon  lose  Gore,  and  I  am  sad  to  think 
how  long  it  may  be  before  I  see  him  again." 


"  It  is  long  since  I  have  held  converse  with  you,  yet  the 
thought  of  you  is  my  Ave  and  my  Vigile, — with  answering 
letters  from  my  army  friends  and  mending  stockings  for  both 
houses,  not  to  mention  the  additions  to  Gore's  outfit  for  Min- 
nesota. Yesterday  I  bade  him  a  sad  adieu,  for  age  is  naturally 
foreboding.  I  cannot  now  imagine  any  errand  which  can 
bring  him  home  for  many  a  day.  He  left  us  for  Washington, 
where  he  hopes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Charles.  We  get 
letters  almost  every  week  from  Charles  or  Ezra.  E.  says,  in 
his  letter  of  Oct.  22d,  '  Everything  now  looks  like  fighting 
in  good  earnest.  In  addition  to  some  fifty  ships  of  war  and 
transports  already  in  our  harbor,  to-day  saw  the  arrival  of 
ten  more  steamboats  loaded  down  with  troops,  making  an  ad- 
dition of  some  ten  thousand  to  the  ten  thousand  here  before. 
And  the  busy  signaling  from  ship  to  ship,  the  noise  of  the 
steam  as  it  is  constantly  kept  up  on  board,  the  frequent  shrill 
whistle  and  the  active  plying  of  the  tugs,  all  tell  us  that  an 
expedition  is  soon  to  start  in  earnest. 'f 

*  Charles  F.  Simmons,  then  Adjutant-General  of  the  Fourteenth  Massachusetts 
Regiment,  stationed  at  Fort  Albany  near  Washington. 

j-  This  was  the  expedition  to  Port  Royal  which  sailed  from  Fortress  Monroe, 
at  the  end  of  October,  1861. 

14 


2io      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"  Did  you  see  in  the  report  of  the  last  defeat  the  familiar 
names  of  several  of  our  old  scholars  and  acquaintances?  I 
am  sad  over  the  loss  of  lives  of  so  much  worth.  They  fill  my 
day  and  night  dreams." 


"  Mrs.  G.  is  coming  to  spend  Sunday.  Lizzie  says  we  shall 
not  sympathize  in  our  feeling  toward  England,  for  she  is  angry 
and  I  am  grieved.  England  is  to  me  as  a  vindictive  parent 
to  whom  I  owe  so  much  that  I  could  make  almost  any  sacri- 
fice. I  have  been  from  my  earliest  remembrance  fed  from  her 
table  with  the  choicest  dainties  of  literature  and  science.  The 
noble  blood  of  her  patriots  and  martyrs  flows  in  my  veins  ;  and 
nothing  that  their  descendants  can  do  will  cancel  the  debt. 

"  I  am  writing  in  my  little  den  lighted  by  the  midday  sun, 
which  is  shining  brighter  and  brighter  every  day,  foretelling 
bursting  blossoms  and  singing  birds.  I  wonder  if  my  first 
experience  of  a  morning  in  Concord  can  ever  be  repeated, 
— the  bright  river  which  I  welcomed  as  my  own,  the  trees 
covered  with  chattering  blackbirds,  good  as  rooks,  the  feeling 
that  I  had  at  last  a  home.  What  a  home  indeed  it  has  been  to 
me,  which  I  would  not  exchange  for  all  that  wealth  or  art 
have  to  offer !" 


"  This  year  with  the  war  is  to  bring  a  new  era  in  Christmas- 
presents.  The  boys  are  to  have  their  money  and  spend  it  as 
they  please.  I  think  we  shall  be  allowed  to  sleep  quietly  in 
our  beds  till  daylight  at  least.  Yet  I  cannot  but  regret  the 
childish  pleasure  of  unexpected  surprises  and  noisy  salutes, 
and  eager  desires  to  see  and  show.  Youth  and  manhood 
have  their  joys  likewise,  but  the  spectre  of  distrust  and  dis- 
appointment is  too  often  in  the  rear. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  James  for  the  nice  edition  of  the 
Greek  plays.  We  have  not  yet  read  these.  They  are  much 
better  as  to  type  than  mine.  Mr.  Sanborn  is  still  faithful  to 
Monday  readings." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


2JI 


"  Charles  has  come  from  Detroit,  with  a  cough  and  the  re- 
mains of  intermittent  fever,  and  is  about  to  try  a  voyage  to 
#  osome  one  of  the  West  India  islands,  to  escape  our  trying 
spring.  How  glad  I  am  that  he  can  call  this  house  his  home 
whenever  he  needs  the  affection  and  comforts  of  one!  He 
seems  to  me  like  a  brother." 

The  reference  in  this  letter  is  to  Charles  F.  Simmons,  the 
brother  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  son-in-law,  and  the  last  survivor  of 
the  family.  Having  entered  the  army,  he  had  been  obliged 
to  go  to  a  Western  State,  and  afterwards  to  the  West  Indies, 
in  search  of  health.  The  vessel  in  which  he  sailed — on  Feb- 
ruary 25,  1862, — was  never  heard  from.* 

In  the  next  mention  of  this  friend,  she  says, — 
"  There  is  a  cloud  over  this  house,  for  you  know  how  long 
it  is  since  there  has  been  any  news  of  Charles.  Will  it  not 
be  sad  if  the  waves  have  closed  over  the  last  of  this  talented 
and  attractive  family?  I  can  say,  with  King  David,  '  Very 
pleasant  hast  thou  been  to  me.'  I  shall  never  see  his  place 
filled  or  look  back  on  any  like  association." 


[April,  1862.] 

"  Yesterday  was  Fast-day,  and,  to  my  surprise  and  delight, 
Mr.  Hedge  came.  It  was  so  good  to  have  him  come  of  his 
own  accord.  I  never  saw  him  look  better ;  but  it  was  sad  that 
I  was  the  only  one  left  to  greet  him,  except  E." 


"  May,  1S62. 

"This  fine  morning  is  sad  for  those  of  us  who  sympathize 
with  the  friends  of  Henry  Thoreau  the  philosopher  and  the 
woodman.  He  had  his  reason  to  the  last,  and  talked  with  his 
friends  pleasantly,  and  arranged  his  affairs,  and  at  last  passed 
in  quiet  sleep  from  this  state  of  duty  and  responsibility  to  that 


*  A  sketch  of  Mr.  Simmons  is  found  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Harvard 
Memorial  Biographies." 


212      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

which  is  behind  the  veil.  His  funeral  service  is  to  be  at  the 
church,  and  Mr.  Emerson  is  to  make  an  address. 

"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  see  the  promise  of  the  coming  year! 
The  children  are  crazy  as  usual  about  anemones  and  violets, 
and  glasses  are  filled  to  a  surfeit.  They  never  look  so  pretty 
as  in  their  own  first  habitat,  where  nature  has  had  the  arranging 
of  them. 

"  I  have  had  George  Sand's  autobiography, — to  me  well 
worth  readincr." 


"  I  went  to  the  post-office,  and  when  I  got  home  I  found 
Dr.  Francis  on  his  annual  visit.  In  the  evening  we  were  all 
together  in  the  red  parlor,  and  there  was  much  laughing  and 
talking  of  the  young  people.  At  last  he  fell  back  on  me,  as 
I  had  toled  him  by  the  mention  of  Leibnitz  which  Mr.  Hedge 
has  lately  sent  me,  and  into  the  depths  of  which  I  am  about 
to  dive,  for  want  of  smaller  fish  nearer  the  surface. 

"  To-morrow  is  the  last  day  of  school,  and  Mary  is  to  give 
the  girls  a  dancing-party,  if  she  can  get  a  violinist,  as  our  old 
one  is  too  patriotic  to  play  in  war  time." 


"  Last  evening  we  took  tea  in  the  kitchen,  Lizzy,  M.,  and  I. 
It  seemed  like  primeval  days,  when  we  turned  our  back  upon 
the  boys  and  winged  our  way  to  Concord.  Did  not  we  revel 
in  freedom,  and  washing  dishes  ?" 


"  Friendships  which  were  the  light  of  that  dreary  passage 
of  constant  labor  and  homesick  boys.  But  you  do  not  like 
to  have  me  speak  so  of  a  home  which  health  and  freedom 
made  happy  to  you,  and  of  petty  trials  which  now  seem  to  me 
a  cheap  price  for  my  Concord  abode  of  freedom  and  rest  for 
what  remains  to  me  of  life  and  hope." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  213 

"  E.  is  resolved  that  M.  B.  shall  pronounce  German  right, 
and  will  no  doubt  succeed,  in  spite  of  resistance.  There  is 
nothing  that  I  regret  more  than  the  want  of  that  accomplish- 
ment ;  but  self-education  is  not  favorable  thereto." 


[Oct.  or  Nov.,  1862.] 
"  Gore's  communications  are  not  very  exhilarating.  He 
wishes  he  were  in  the  army  ;  would  be  willing  to  go  as  a  pri- 
vate in  Ezra's  company,  but  feels  obliged  to  stay  where  he  is. 
The  Indians  in  the  country  where  he  is,  have  taken  advantage 
of  the  war  to  ravage  the  neighborhood.  They  have,  he  says, 
murdered  hundreds  of  women  and  children." 


"  Harriet  sent  us  Ezra's  last  letter.  He  is  stationed  at  Har- 
per's Ferry,  where  the  Fury  laid  the  first  egg  of  this  dire  war. 
There  seems  to  be  quiet  now,  but  all  the  interim  is  '  like  a 
phantasma  or  a  hideous  dream'  to  me.  With  what  bright 
sunny  days  nature  shines  on  this  blood-stained  earth!  I  am 
looking  forward  to  your  promised  visit,  and  hope  for  a  day  or 
two  at  least  to  look  on  a  brighter  side  of  things.  I  go  as  usual 
one  or  two  days  in  the  week  to  reconnoitre  Mary's  stocking- 
basket.     She  gets  but  little  time  to  sew,  and  is  glad  of  a  lift. 

"  Lizzie  Simmons  with  her  Latin  and  Greek  fills  an  hour  or 
so.     I  never  nod  in  the  presence  of  Homer  and  Tacitus. 

"  We  have  been  reading  a  book  of  very  interesting  travels 
in  the  interior  of  Africa,  a  subject  in  which  I  did  not  think  I 
ever  could  take  any  interest,  but  this  traveling  object  was 
natural  science,  and  the  stories  of  African  life  and  manners  we 
have  found  very  agreeable,  besides  having  made  acquaintance 
with  full-grown  and  baby  gorillas,  not  to  mention  other  sin- 
gular animals  as  well  as  plants." 

In  these  days,  however,  friends  came  and  went,  as  of  old. 
She  says,  "  Lizzy  keeps  the  hinges  of  the  old  doors  still  bright. 


14 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


I  never  could  have  believed  that  she  would  have  made  the  old 
house  such  a  place  of  resort  for  such  a  variety  of  guests,  and 
assort  them  so  well  together." 

"We  did  not  expect  our  visitors,  but  Lizzy  is  inexhaustible 
in  resources;  her  larder  is  never  failing  in  dainties  of  some 
sort  and  served  with  the  best  grace." 


[January,  1863.] 
"  To  see  your  dear  image  is  next  to  seeing  your  dear  self. 
It  does  not  quite  come  up  to  the  mark,  but  it  is  very  good, 
and  I  shall  treasure  it  among  the  other  shadows  of  the  beloved 
ones  from  whose  realities  the  waves  of  time  are  fast  removing 
me.  I  wish  I  could  see  your  dear  mother  and  yourself,  but  I 
have  no  spirits  left  for  visiting  in  these  dreadful  days  of  anxiety 
and  destruction.  How  generous  Gam's  contribution  to  Ezra 
was!  If  he  knew  how  much  I  thought  of  it,  he  would  need 
no  thanks.  ...  I  was  alone  all  day  at  Milton  the  day  of 
Sidney  Willard's  funeral,*  and  sad  indeed  it  was.  We  should 
not  mourn  so,  if  lives  did  not  seem  thrown  away  by  mis- 
management and  mistakes." 


"  My  dear  Sophy, — 

"  How  kind  you  were  to  write  me  such  an  interesting  ac- 
count of  your  whereabout  and  what  you  were  doing,  at  such 
a  busy  time  !  I  know  your  energy  and  zeal  for  labor  at  home 
and  abroad.  I  must  tell  you  about  my  present  from  Abby 
Francis.  She  wrote  to  ask  which  of  her  father's  books  I 
should  like,  as  she  wished  me  to  have  a  choice.    She  has  sent 

*  Sidney  Willard,  the  son  of  old  and  valued  friends  of  Mrs.  Ripley,  was 
killed  in  battle  at  Fredericksburg,  in  December,  1S62.  He  was  Major  of  the 
Thirty-fifth  Massachusetts  Regiment,  and  was  in  command  of  it  at  the  time 
of  his  death.  A  sketch  of  him  is  given  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Harvard 
Memorial  Biographies." 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY 


215 


me  an  elegant  set  of  Plato,  with  other  valuable  books.  I 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  present.  The  old  books  on  the 
shelf  have  descended,  and  my  eyes  rest  with  such  delight  on 
the  visions  of  the  immortal  Greek  that  perchance  I  may 
forget  my  mission  in  this  modern  world.  If  I  dreamed  of 
the  old  inspired  one,  it  was  in  a  rusty  garb,  moth-eaten  ;  but 
in  such  gilt  and  bright  apparel  I  shall  be  unwilling  to  have 
unconsecrated  hands  placed  upon  him. 

"  Orisons  ascend  daily  for  those  nearer  and  dearer  to  whom 
I  am  so  much  indebted.  I  have  but  one  ardent  wish,  that  I 
may  see  the  object  of  your  care  and  kindness*  worthy  and 
grateful  for  what  you  have  done  for  him.  The  sun  is  so  bright 
that  Davy's  flowers  are  basking  in  it  at  my  window.  The  little 
orange-bush  still  puts  forth  new  leaves.  Ask  him  if  he  will 
not  some  day  refresh  grandma's  old  eyes  with  a  sight  of  his 
handwriting.     I  hope  he  is  a  good  boy. 

"  I  read  Fanny'sf  letter  this  morning  with  much  pleasure. 
No  one  can  know  how  dear  she  is  to  me.  I  hailed  with  great 
joy  her  mother's  advent,  tended  and  watched  over  her  feeble 
childhood,  and  closed  her  eyes  in  death.  Now  I  have  nothing 
to  do  but  think  of  those  who  are  gone.  'My  brothers,  where 
are  they?  and  the  prophets,  do  they  live  forever?'  But  dear 
ones  still  are  left:  if  I  could  insure  their  happiness  I  would 
ask  for  nothing  more. 

"  Don't  think  I  am  sad  beyond  measure;  far  from  it,  in  this 
sunny  room,  with  David's  nursery  of  plants  before  my  sunny 
window,  and  in  my  mind  his  happy  home.  Sunday  is  no 
longer  a  bugbear;  I  am  not  listening  to  hear  what  he  is  doing 
or  where  he  is  wandering  that  he  should  not.  I  am  sure  I 
can  never  repay  James  or  yourself  for  making  such  a  change 
in  his  present  environment  and  future  prospects. 

"  Tell  Davy  his  flowers  flourish,  and  the  little  rose-bush,  so 
unwilling  to  yield  to  the  sweet  influences  of  the  light  from  my 


*  David  Loring,  the  son  of  her  daughter  Ann. 

f  The  daughter  of  her  sister  Margaret,  now  Mrs.  Francis  Howland,  of  Engle- 
wood,  New  Jersey. 


2i6     WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

sunny  window,  has  at  last  sent  forth  six  new  leaves,  small,  to 
be  sure,  but  precursors  of  future  beauty. 

"  I  hope  he  gives  you  no  more  trouble  than  the  name  boy 
necessarily  carries  with  it." 


"  I  arrived  home  safely  on  Saturday,  I  cannot  say  with  joy, 
for  the  image  of  the  dear  little  boy  behind,  and  the  long  time 
I  might  be  without  him,  filled  my  mind.  I  hope  he  will  not 
forget  me. 

"  Mr.  Sanborn  more  than  keeps  us  up  in  books.  He  brought 
a  story  by  De  Foe, — '  Colonel  Jack,' — the  most  melancholy 
picture  you  can  conceive  of  the  suffering  of  poor  neglected 
beings,  who  beg  or  steal  from  their  earliest  years,  know  no 
parents,  sleep  in  glass-houses  buried  in  warm  ashes,  have  no 
companions  better  off  than  themselves,  and  yet  a  vital  spark 
of  principle  innate,  or  rather  sympathy,  keeps  them  from  utter 
ruin. 

"  What  should  I  do  without  books  in  these  latter  days  ? 
'Nam  cetera  neque  temporum  sunt  ncquc  cctatum  omnium,  ncque 
locorum.  At  Jicec  studia  adolcsccntiam  alunt,  senectutcm  oblcc- 
lant,  secundas  res  ornant,  adversis  pcrfugium  ac  solatium  prcz- 
bent ;  delectant  domi,  non  impcdiunt  foris,  pernoctant  nobiscum, 
percgrinantur,  rusticantur.'  So  says  Cicero,  and  I  subscribe ; 
and  so  will  you,  if  you  live  to  be  old  and  feel  lonely." 


"  You  cannot  think  how  I  miss  David  in  these  bright  days. 
The  other  day  at  noon  I  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw 
the  ridge  of  the  barn  covered  entirely  with  a  row  of  doves. 
They  seemed  as  if  they  had  come  to  inquire  for  their  old 
master  and  ask  why  the  usual  treat  of  corn  was  no  longer 
there." 


"  Mr.  Sanborn  came  to  see  me  last  night.     He  is  faithful  to 
his  old  friends,  and  I  look  for  Mr.  Channing  with  a  new  book 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


217 


every  day.  The  Don  still  continues  my  chief  resource.  I 
am  far  advanced  in  the  third  volume,  and  can  read  quite  well, 
— that  is,  to  myself.  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  pronounce  it.  I 
am  quite  proud  to  add  it  to  French  and  Italian,  and  have 
some  insight  into  the  wit,  which  is  considered  so  rare.  It  is 
narrated  in  the  life  of  Pope,  that  a  gentleman  was  advised  by 
a  nobleman  to  study  the  Spanish  language,  and  when  the 
said  gentleman  reported  his  progress,  instead  of  being  ap- 
pointed to  some  mission,  as  he  expected,  he  received  for  his 
answer  that  he  envied  him  the  pleasure  of  reading  Don  Quix- 
ote in  the  original.  Those  who  read  to  kill  time  are  not  sub- 
jected to  such  disappointments. 

"  Mr.  Sanborn  announced  his  determination  to  give  up  his 
school  last  night  when  he  came  to  read  with  me.  He  is  to 
join  Mr.  Conway  in  editing  a  paper.  We  are  all  very  sorry 
to  lose  him." 


There  is  no  letter  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  which  makes  any 
express  reference  to  the  death  of  her  youngest  son,  Ezra,  in 
the  war,  in  the  summer  of  1863.  Painful  as  that  event  was 
to  her,  she  seemed  to  lose  the  thought  of  her  own  sorrow 
in  grieving  over  that  of  her  daughter-in-law,  childless  and 
now  a  widow.  The  body  of  her  son  was  brought  home,  and 
lies  buried  in  the  Concord  cemetery.* 

"  I  am  looking  forward  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Gore  once 
more,  and  imagining  him  in  a  happy  home  for  the  future.  I 
have  but  one  hope  left, — that  I  may  not  survive  all  who  are 
dear  to  me.  I  wish  I  could  discuss  with  you  divers  questions 
on  the  subject  of  Gore's  wedding.f  I  think  I  shall  go,  when- 
ever and  wherever  it  is,  though  I  risk  taking  cold,  and  brave 
fashion  in  my  apparel.     Concord  is  awake,  as  usual  at  this 

*  A  sketch  of  Ezra  Ripley  is  given  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Harvard 
Memorial  Biographies." 

f  Mrs.  Ripley's  eldest  son  was  married  in  December,  1863,  to  Mrs.  Frances 
Gage,  of  Boston. 


2i8      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

period  of  the  year.  When  Mr.  Sanborn  got  up  his  school  he 
founded  with  it  an  institution  for  collecting  together  a  shoal 
of  agreeable  young  ladies,  who  continue  to  convene  together 
at  this  season  of  the  year,  the  train  lessening  as  time  passes 
on,  thinning  their  number  by  marriage  or  death. 

"  I  should  write  a  longer  answer  to  your  note,  which  I  was 
so  glad  to  get  this  morning,  if  Mr.  Channing  had  not  brought 
me  an  interesting  book  on  the  fructification  of  flowers  by  in- 
sects, which  I  must  read." 


"  D.  is  keeping  up  her  lessons  with  Uncle  George.  Like  all 
bright  girls  when  they  first  leave  school,  she  feels  the  need  of 
something  to  fill  up  the  gap  between  the  past  and  present. 
The  desire  soon  dies  out  with  most  young  ones,  but  it  is  good 
to  see  it  and  foster  it  while  it  lasts,  and  there  is  always  the 
chance  and  hope  that  it  may  be  lasting  and  decide  the  char- 
acter for  higher  aims  than  fashion  and  frivolous  amusement." 


At  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Bradford's  grandson  Gamaliel,  the 
sixth  of  that  name  in  the  direct  line  from  Governor  William 
Bradford  of  the  Plymouth  Colony,  Mrs.  Ripley  writes  to  her 
sister-in-law : 

MRS.    RIPLF.Y    TO    MRS.    BRADFORD. 

[Oct.  1863.] 

"  Dear  Sophia, — 

"Though  it  is  Sunday  morning,  before  church-time,  I  cannot 
wait,  my  sympathy  with  you  all  is  so  earnest,  to  welcome  the 
dear  little  stranger.  How  proud  you  all  must  be  that  he  has 
hit  the  mark,  and  does  not  intend  that  the  name  of  the  first 
emigrants  for  liberty  and  truth  shall  die  out!  Nevertheless 
he  must  remember  his  responsibilities,  likewise,  for  a  blot  on 
his  escutcheon  would  be  worse  than  no  escutcheon  at  all.  I 
shall  not  live,  perchance,  to  criticise  the  result,  but  send  the 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


219 


best  wishes  of  an  aged  aunt,  to  those  most  interested  in  his 
debut  and  future  success.  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  all  again 
under  happier  auspices  than  these  dark  days  have  been  to  me." 

In  February,  1866,  a  second  son  was  born  in  the  household 
at  Milton,  and  she  writes  to  her  daughter  as  follows  : 

mrs.  ripley  to  mrs.  thayer. 
"  Dear  Sophy, — 

"  Many  a  time  and  oft  I  have  been  homesick  for  the  dear 
little  boy,  but  I  did  not  think  his  place  would  be  so  soon  filled 
by  another,  as  good  and  pretty,  no  doubt,  but  not  the  one  we 
know  and  love.  How  I  wish  I  were  not  so  old,  that  I  cannot 
help  you  take  care  of  and  comfort  him  when  another  has 
taken  his  place  !  I  don't  think,  however,  any  one  can  take 
his  place  in  my  heart.  The  new-comer  is  to  take  Ezra's  name. 
I  long  to  see  him.  Ever  so  much  hope  and  love  from  your 
affectionate  mother  and  to  your  dear  husband." 


At  another  time  she  writes, — 

"  Lizzy  advises  me  to  write  to  you  this  morning.  The  wind 
is  blowing  so  furiously  that  I  dare  not  venture  on  a  walk. 
How  I  long  to  see  the  dear  little  boys  together  !  In  spite  of 
predilections  and  disappointments  as  to  sex,  I  love  him  al- 
ready, and  shall  stand  by  him  in  spite  of  his  dark  locks.  How 
I  count  the  hours  till  Concord  is  made  rich  to  me  by  a  sight 
of  the  dear  ones  !" 

In  August,  1866,  she  made  her  last  visit  to  Duxbury,  the 
home  of  her  ancestors,  and  of  dear  friends  and  cousins  still 
living.  She  had  been  to  Milton  on  the  way,  and  wrote  from 
Duxbury  to  her  son-in-law  thus  : 

"Duxbury,  August  15th,  1866. 

"  Dear  James, — 

"  I  was  delighted  to  see  the  face  of  the  dear  little  boy  and 


220      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

to  know  that  you  are  all  safe  at  home  and  thriving.  I  found 
the  friends  all  well  at  Old  Colony,  and  was  received  with  a 
hearty  welcome.  Everything  looks  bright  and  flourishing. 
The  early  apples  are  fit  for  baking,  and  the  odor  of  the  pine- 
cones  sweet  as  in  former  days.  I  took  a  walk  in  the  pine 
grove  near  the  cemetery  yesterday  morning,  and  crept  down 
the  hill  into  a  deep  ravine  we  used  to  call  the  bowl,  covered 
with  decayed  leaves,  where  we  used  to  play  tea  with  acorns 
for  fairy  cups  :  the  acorns  and  the  cups  remain,  but  the  charm 
is  gone,  never  to  return.  Nevertheless  love  and  friendship 
still  remain,  and  will  as  long  as  the  heart  beats  and  those 
that  look  out  of  the  windows  are  not  utterly  darkened.  I 
hope  to  see  you  all  before  long,  when  I  hope  I  shall  be  quite 
well,  and  able  to  help  you,  or  rather  Sophy,  in  the  care  of  the 
little  ones.  I  begin  to  miss  Phcebe  and  David,  and  hope 
soon  to  be  at  home  to  hear  their  story  at  first  and  not  at 
second-hand.  Sarah  Ellison  is  still  at  Duxbury.  I  have 
made  no  visits  as  yet ;  the  old  folks  are  all  gone,  and  the 
young  ones  '  know  not  Joseph,'  but  the  dream  of  the  past 
comes  up  with  sweet  odor,  and  will  as  long  as  life  shall  last. 
"  Your  affectionate  mother, 

"S.  A.  R." 

Early  in  1867  she  began  to  write  to  her  little  grandson, 
Willy,  then  three  years  old,  but  had  written  only  a  few  lines 
when  she  changed  the  address.     The  letter  is  as  follows : 

"  flow  we  will  run  about  and  pick  the  fresh  flowers,  and 
Gamma  will  tell  you  their  names  and  put  them  in  the  glass 
vases !  Now  the  fair  days  are  coming,  I  think  we  shall  like 
the  flowers  in  the  field  better  than  those  in  the  garden  ;  but 
both  are  beautiful  in  their  time.  If  grandma  wants  a  garden, 
you  will  be  willing  to  help  her,  like  a  kind  little  boy. — Dear 
James  and  Sophy,  I  hope  to  be  with  you  before  long  and 
finish  this  romance  which  has  given  me  such  pleasure.  You 
cannot  think  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  in  my  childish  com- 
positions :    they  have   helped  off  and  whiled  away  many  a 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  221 

weary  hour.     I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  very  jealous  when  others 
come  to  take  their  share. 

"  Mary  is  an  angel  of  promise,  and  makes  me  as  happy  as 
any  old  worn-out  being  can  expect  to  be. 

"  Oh,  how  I  count  the  days  till  the  dear  little  fellows  will 
be  here !  I  have  plans  for  their  amusement.  I  hope  they 
will  have  a  good  time.  Every  day  will  bring  a  flower.  How 
pleasant.it  will  be  to  be  with  you  and  the  dear  ones!  I  shall 
live  another  life.  I  may  be  childish,  but  there  are  no  limits 
to  love. 

"  Your  affectionate  mother, 

"S.  A.  R." 

And  with  these  beautiful  words,  ends  her  last  letter.  Grad- 
ually failing  strength  brought  now  a  short  eclipse.  She  re- 
mained at  Concord,  in  the  house  of  her  daughter  Mary,  and 
there,  in  the  arms  of  her  children,  in  the  summer  of  1867, 
she  fell  asleep.  Of  these  last  days  her  friend  Mr.  Sanborn 
has  beautifully  said,  "At  length  there  came  a  time,  after  many 
shocks  to  her  health  and  her  affections  given  by  bereaving 
age,  when  even  such  unselfish  pleasures  were  denied  to  this 
sweetest  of  human  souls.  He  who  drops  or  withdraws  the 
veil  at  the  gates  of  mortal  life  was  pleased  to  make  her  re- 
moval hence  after  the  joys  of  earth  had  ceased  to  touch  her 
with  delight,  and  when  the  spectacle  of  her  affliction  recon- 
ciled those  about  her  to  the  interposition  of  death.  She  has 
carried  with  her  beyond  these  shores  of  anguish  and  doubt 
the  love  of  a  thousand  friends  and  the  enduring  record  of 
well-spent  days." 

Five  of  Mrs.  Ripley's  children  survive  her, — the  three  oldest 
daughters,  Elizabeth,  Mary,  and  Phcebe;  her  oldest  son,  Chris- 
topher Gore, — for  many  years  a  lawyer  in  Minnesota,  and 
chief  justice  of  that  State  at  the  time  of  his  retirement  from 
business  ;  and  her  youngest  daughter,  Sophia. 

On  the  stone  which  marks  Mrs.  Ripley's  grave  in  the  beau- 


222      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

tiful  cemetery  at  Concord,  her  children  placed  an  inscription 
containing  a  part  of  the  passage  with  which  Tacitus  ends  his 
Life  of  Agricola.  It  was  a  passage  which  was  specially  dear 
to  her:  many  of  her  friends  will  recall  the  fine  glow  of  feel- 
ing with  which  she  has  read  or  quoted  it ;  and  to  these  it 
will  always  be  associated  with  her  memory.  I  cannot  better 
close  this  imperfect  sketch  of  her  life  than  by  giving  the 
whole  of  it :  of  no  one  was  it  ever  more  worthily  spoken 
than  of  her.  The  words  inclosed  in  brackets  are  those  which 
are  on  her  gravestone. 

"  Si  quis  piorum  manibus  locus ;  si,  ut  sapientibus  placet, 
non  cum  corpore  exstinguuntur  magnae  animae ;  [placide 
quiescas,  nosque,  domum  tuam,  ab  infirmo  desiderio  et  mulie- 
bribus  lamentis  ad  contemplationem  virtutum  tuarum  voces, 
quas  neque  lugeri  neque  plangi  fas  est:  admiratione  te  potius, 
temporalibus  laudibus,  et,  si  natura  suppeditet,  similitudine 
decoremus.]  Is  verus  honos,  ea  conjunctissimi  cujusque  pietas. 
Id  filiae  quoque  uxorique  praeceperim,  sic  patris,  sic  mariti 
memoriam  venerari,  ut  omnia  facta  dictaque  ejus  secum  revol- 
vant ;  famamque  ac  figuram  animi  magis  quam  corporis  com- 
plectantur :  non  quia  intercedendum  putem  imaginibus,  quae 
marmore  aut  aere  finguntur,  sed  ut  vultus  hominum,  ita  simu- 
lacra vultus  imbecilla  ac  mortalia  sunt,  forma  mentis  aeterna, 
quam  tenere  et  exprimere  non  per  alienam  materiam  et  artem, 
sed  tuis  ipse  moribus  possis.  Quidquid  ex  Agricola  amavi- 
mus,  quidquid  mirati  sumus,  manet  mansurumque  est  in 
animis  hominum,  in  aeternitate  temporum,  fama  rerum.  Nam 
multos  veterum,  velut  inglorios  et  ignobiles  oblivio  obruet: 
Agricola  posteritati  narratus  et  traditus  superstes  erit." 


Out  of  a  number  of  tender  and  appreciative  notices  of 
Mrs.  Ripley's  death  which  were  written  at  the  time,  it  seems 
well  to  add  here  one  by  Mr.  R.  W.  Emerson,  which  has  al- 
ready been  referred  to,  and  another  by  Mr.  Henry  Lee,  of 
Boston,  one  of  her  old  pupils,  for  whom  she  always  cherished 
a  most  cordial  regard. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  223 

Mr.  Emerson's  notice  was  printed  in  the  Boston  "  Daily- 
Advertiser"  of  July  31,  1867,  and  is  as  follows: 

"  Died  in  Concord,  Massachusetts,  on  the  26th  of  July,  1867, 
Mrs.  Sarah  Alden  Ripley,  aged  seventy-four  years.  The 
death  of  this  lady,  widely  known  and  beloved,  will  be  sin- 
cerely deplored  by  many  persons  scattered  in  distant  parts  of 
the  country,  who  have  known  her  rare  accomplishments  and 
the  singular  loveliness  of  her  character.  A  lineal  descendant  of 
the  first  governor  of  Plymouth  Colony,  she  was  happily  born 
and  bred.  Her  father,  Gamaliel  Bradford,  was  a  sea-captain 
of  marked  ability,  with  heroic  traits  which  old  men  will  still 
remember,  and  though  a  man  of  action  yet  adding  a  taste 
for  letters.  Her  brothers,  younger  than  herself,  were  scholars, 
but  her  own  taste  for  study  was  even  more  decided.  At  a 
time  when  perhaps  no  other  young  woman  read  Greek,  she 
acquired  the  language  with  ease  and  read  Plato, — adding  soon 
the  advantage  of  German  commentators. 

"After  her  marriage,  when  her  husband,  the  well-known 
clergyman  of  Waltham,  received  boys  in  his  house  to  be  fitted 
for  college,  she  assumed  the  advanced  instruction  in  Greek 
and  Latin,  and  did  not  fail  to  turn  it  to  account  by  extending 
her  studies  in  the  literature  of  both  languages.  It  soon  hap- 
pened that  students  from  Cambridge  were  put  under  her 
private  instruction  and  oversight.  If  the  young  men  shared 
her  delight  in  the  book,  she  was  interested  at  once  to  lead 
them  to  higher  steps  and  more  difficult  but  not  less  engaging 
authors,  and  they  soon  learned  to  prize  the  new  world  of 
thought  and  history  thus  opened.  Her  best  pupils  became 
her  lasting  friends.  She  became  one  of  the  best  Greek 
scholars  in  the  country,  and  continued,  in  her  latest  years,  the 
habit  of  reading  Homer,  the  tragedians,  and  Plato.  But  her 
studies  took  a  wide  range  in  mathematics,  in  natural  philoso- 
phy, in  psychology,  in  theology,  as  well  as  in  ancient  and 
modern  literature.  She  had  always  a  keen  ear  open  to  what- 
ever new  facts  astronomy,  chemistry,  or  the  theories  of  light 
and  heat  had  to  furnish.    Any  knowledge,  all  knowledge,  was 


224      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

welcome.  Her  stores  increased  day  by  day.  She  was  abso- 
lutely without  pedantry.  Nobody  ever  heard  of  her  learning 
until  a  necessity  came  for  its  use,  and  then  nothing  could  be 
more  simple  than  her  solution  of  the  problem  proposed  to 
her.  The  most  intellectual  gladly  conversed  with  one  whose 
knowledge,  however  rich  and  varied,  was  always  with  her 
only  the  means  of  new  acquisition.  Meantime,  her  mind  was 
purely  receptive.  She  had  no  ambition  to  propound  a  theory, 
or  to  write  her  own  name  on  any  book,  or  plant,  or  opinion. 
Her  delight  in  books  was  not  tainted  by  any  wish  to  shine, 
or  any  appetite  for  praise  or  influence.  She  seldom  and  un- 
willingly used  a  pen,  and  only  for  necessity  or  affection. 

"But  this  wide  and  successful  study  was,  during  all  the 
hours  of  middle  life,  only  the  work  of  hours  stolen  from  sleep, 
or  was  combined  with  some  household  task  which  occupied 
the  hands  and  left  the  eyes  free.  She  was  faithful  to  all  the 
duties  of  wife  and  mother  in  a  well-ordered  and  eminently 
hospitable  household,  wherein  she  was  dearly  loved,  and  where 

'  her  heart 
Life's  lowliest  duties  on  itself  did  lay.' 

She  was  not  only  the  most  amiable,  but  the  tenderest  of 
women,  wholly  sincere,  thoughtful  for  others,  and,  though 
careless  of  appearances,  submitting  with  docility  to  the  better 
arrangements  with  which  her  children  or  friends  insisted  on 
supplementing  her  own  negligence  of  dress;  for  her  own  part 
indulging  her  children  in  the  greatest  freedom,  assured  that 
their  own  reflection,  as  it  opened,  would  supply  all  needed 
checks.  She  was  absolutely  without  appetite  for  luxury,  or 
display,  or  praise,  or  influence,  with  entire  indifference  to 
trifles.  Not  long  before  her  marriage,  one  of  her  intimate 
friends  in  the  city,  whose  family  were  removing,  proposed  to 
her  to  go  with  her  to  the  new  house,  and,  taking  some  articles 
in  her  own  hand,  by  way  of  trial  artfully  put  into  her  hand  a 
broom,  whilst  she  kept  her  in  free  conversation  on  some  spec- 
ulative points,  and  this  she  faithfully  carried  across  Boston 
Common,  from  Summer  Street  to  Hancock  Street,  without 
hesitation  or  remark. 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY. 


225 


"  Though  entirely  domestic  in  her  habit  and  inclination,  she 
was  everywhere  a  welcome  visitor,  and  a  favorite  of  society, 
when  she  rarely  entered  it.  The  elegance  of  her  tastes  recom- 
mended her  to  the  elegant,  who  were  swift  to  distinguish  her 
as  they  found  her  simple  manners  faultless.  With  her  singular 
simplicity  and  purity,  such  as  society  could  not  spoil,  nor 
much  affect,  she  was  only  entertained  by  it,  and  really  went 
into  it  as  children  into  a  theatre, — to  be  diverted, — while  her 
ready  sympathy  enjoyed  whatever  beauty  of  person,  manners, 
or  ornament  it  had  to  show.  If  there  was  conversation,  if 
there  were  thought  or  learning,  her  interest  was  commanded, 
and  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  happiness  of  the  hour. 

"  As  she  advanced  in  life,  her  personal  beauty,  not  remarked 
in  youth,  drew  the  notice  of  all,  and  age  brought  no  fault  but 
the  brief  decay  and  eclipse  of  her  intellectual  powers." 

The  following  article,  by  Mr.  Lee,  appeared  in  the  Boston 
"  Evening  Transcript"  of  August  8,  1867  : 

"  The  following  tribute  comes  from  one  who  speaks  from 
experiences  which  he  treasures  in  his  memory  as  among  the 
richest  blessings  of  his  life.  There  are  many  with  like  grate- 
ful remembrances  who  will  respond  with  all  their  hearts  to  his 
every  word,  and  thank  him  for  giving  expression  to  their 
esteem  and  love  for  one  who,  whilst  she  was  their  teacher, 
was  also  the  truest  and  kindest  of  friends, — almost  a  mother 
in  the  gentleness  of  her  disinterested  devotion  to  their  best 
welfare. 

" '  Weep  not ;  she  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth.' 

"And  surely  she  needeth  sleep;  for  if  time  is  measured  by 
sensations,  her  life  has  been  prolonged  beyond  the  mortal 
span  ;  if  we  consider  the  work  accomplished,  who  has  achieved 
so  much,  for  herself  or  for  others?  or  if  we  meditate  upon  the 
Christian  graces,  the  beatitudes  of  meekness,  purity  of  heart, 
the  charity  which  suffereth  long  and  is  kind,  vaunteth  not 
itself,  seeketh  not  her  own,  thinketh  no  evil,  rejoiceth  in  the 
truth,  whose  character  was  more  complete,  whose  spirit  more 
ready  for  its  flight,  than  hers  ? 

15 


226      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"The  wife  of  the  minister  of  a  large  country  parish  whose 
parochial  labor  she  shared,  the  mother  of  a  large  family,  the 
mistress  of  a  household  increased  by  boarding  scholars, 
neither  the  heavy  exactions  of  parishioners,  nor  importunate 
maternal  pains  and  anxieties,  nor  household  economies  faith- 
fully attended  to,  exhausted  her:  she  still  found  time  and 
strength  to  devote  to  two  or  three  school-boys  preparing  for 
college,  or  more  advanced  students  rusticated  for  idleness  or 
academic  misdemeanors.  And  what  a  wealth  of  learning  and 
thought  and  feeling  she  poured  out  for  these  pupils !  Illu- 
mined by  her  clear  intellect,  the  knottiest  problem  was  dis- 
entangled ;  embellished  by  such  a  lover  of  learning,  the  driest 
subject  was  made  interesting.  The  veriest  scapegrace  was 
reduced  to  thoughtfulness,  the  most  hopeless  dullard  caught 
a  gleam  of  light;  her  faith  in  their  intuitions  and  capabilities 
lifted  them  and  shamed  or  encouraged  them  to  efforts  impos- 
sible under  another  instructor ;  for  she  did  not  merely  impart 
instruction,  she  educated  all  the  powers  of  the  mind  and 
heart.  Many  scholars  now  eminent  can  date  their  first  glimpse 
of  the  region  above,  their  first  venture  upon  the  steep  path, 
to  the  loving  enthusiasm,  the  cheering  assurances,  of  this 
inspired  teacher  and  friend  ;  and  they  who  fainted  or  strayed 
without  fulfilling  her  confident  predictions  must  look  back 
with  astonishment  at  this  brilliant  period  of  their  lives  and 
regret  that  her  influence  could  not  have  been  extended  over 
a  longer  period. 

"  A  mind  alive  to  all  the  beauties  of  art  and  science  and 
nature,  a  heart  which  warmed  to  the  most  unpromising  pupil 
and  kindled  at  the  faintest  ray  of  hope,  naturally  craved  the 
company  of  kindred  men  and  women  of  learning  and  thought, 
as  they  delighted  in  hers:  this  was  Mrs.  Ripley's  true  recrea- 
tion after  the  toil  and  trouble  of  the  day.  And  what  pleasant 
parties  used  to  gather  round  her  hospitable  fireside !  what 
ambrosial  nights,  fondly  remembered  by  the  privileged  per- 
sons who  enjoyed  them  as  actors  or  spectators !  There  were, 
probably,  books  she  had  not  read,  languages  and  sciences  she 
had  not  learned,  but  she  seemed  to  have  explored  every  region 


MRS.  SAMUEL  RIPLEY.  227 

and  to  have  intuitive  ideas  on  every  subject  of  interest.  And 
over  all  these  gifts  and  acquirements  was  thrown  a  veil  of 
modesty  so  close  that  only  by  an  impulse  of  sympathy  or 
enthusiasm  was  it  ever  withdrawn;  with  a  simplicity  equally 
amusing  and  touching,  she  impressed  you  so  little  with  her 
own  wonderful  powers,  and  referred  so  much  to  your  sayings 
and  doings,  that  you  really  went  away  wondering  at  your  own 
brilliancy  and  doubting  how  much  you  had  given,  how  much 
received. 

"  The  eloquent  lips  are  silent,  the  flashing  eye  is  dull,  the 
blush  of  modesty  has  faded  from  the  cheek,  the  cordial  smile 
will  never  again  on  this  earth  welcome  the  friends,  old  or 
young,  humble  or  famous,  neighbors  or  strangers,  who  sought 
this  inspired  presence.  But  the  puzzled  brain  is  clear  again, 
the  heavy  heart  joyful,  immortal  youth  returned.  With  those 
she  loved  on  earth  she  is  seeing  face  to  face  what  she  here 
saw  darkly. 

"  '  Learn  the  mystery  of  progression  duly  ; 

Do  not  call  each  glorious  change  decay; 

But  know  we  only  hold  our  treasures  truly 

When  it  seems  as  if  they  passed  away.'  " 

Elizabeth  Hoar. 


THE    WOMEN    OF    NEW    HAMPSHIRE    IN 
THE    EARLY    DAYS: 

WHAT  THEY  WERE,  AND  WHAT  THEY   DID. 


"  Many  hamlets  sought  I  then, 
Many  farms  of  mountain  men. 
Rallying  round  a  parish  steeple 
Nestle  warm  the  highland  people, 
Coarse  and  boisterous,  yet  mild, 
Strong  as  giant,  slow  as  child." 


In  looking  for  a  New  Hampshire  woman,  of  the  early  days, 
who  shall  furnish  the  subject  of  a  biographical  sketch  to 
stand  as  a  type  of  the  womanhood  of  the  State,  one  is  dis- 
heartened at  the  outset  by  the  extreme  meagreness  of  the 
record.  Yet  it  is  of  these  women  of  the  early  days  that  one  is 
most  strongly  moved  to  write,  since  they  have  left  their  mark 
on  the  places  and  times  in  which  they  lived,  as  their  descend- 
ants have  not  had  the  opportunity,  even  if  they  had  the  ability, 
to  do.  A  few  incidents,  here  and  there,  are  all  that  can  be 
found,  treasured  up,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  memories  of  the 
older  people;  but  these  all  tell  the  same  story,  and,  taken 
together,  furnish  an  impressive  picture  of  a  group  of  faithful, 
helpful  wives,  and  devoted,  often  heroic,  mothers. 

These  are,  emphatically,  the  roles  they  played.  The  "  spirit 
of  service"  was  never  more  fully  developed.  They  seem  to 
have  had  a  positive  genius  for  self-sacrifice,  and  it  is  as  they 
impressed  themselves  on  the  children  who  came  after  them 
that  their  biography  is  best  written. 

One  who  looks  at  all  into  the  history  of  New  Hampshire 

cannot  fail  to  notice  how  large  a  part  of  the  fair  fame  of  this 

229 


230 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR   FIRST  CENTURY 


small  State,  derived  as  it  is  from  the  noticeably  large  number 
of  great  men  who  have  gone  out  from  it,  is  a  direct  inheritance 
from  the  mothers. 

In  the  histories  of  New  Hampshire  one  must  read  between 
the  lines  to  find  the  women.  Indeed,  it  very  soon  becomes 
impossible  not  to  so  read ;  for  when  one  finds  that  "  every  able- 
bodied  man  in  the  town  of  Peterborough,  New  Hampshire,  on 
the  19th  day  of  April,  1775,  was  at  the  rendezvous  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  such  arms  as  he  might  happen 
to  have  [Tom  McCoy  had  a  flail,  with  which  "to  give  the 
Britishers  a  literal  threshing"],  ready  to  march  to  Lexington," 
one  can  but  ask  who  was  to  do  all  the  men's  work,  in  this 
land  of  toil,  during  their  absence.  Who,  indeed,  but  the 
women  ? 

The  testimony  of  one  who  is  an  authority  in  matters  of 
New  Hampshire  history  is  that  "  none  of  the  women  were 
conspicuous,  and  all  were  faithful."  Perhaps,  in  these  days, 
one  may  be  pardoned  for  thinking  that  the  womanhood  of  a 
State  where  none  were  "  conspicuous"  is  sufficiently  distin- 
guished, without  the  crowning  tribute  that  "  all  were  faithful." 
A  daughter  of  the  State,  a  little  anxious,  perhaps,  for  the 
credit  of  these  silent  but  heroic  toilers,  raises  her  voice  to 
remind  us  that  "  those  are  the  best  women  of  whom  nothing 
is  reported."  Judged  by  this  standard  the  women  of  New 
Hampshire  were  pre-eminent.  Another  one  writes, — but  this 
is  a  scoffer, — "The  chapter  on  the  distinguished  women  of  New 
Hampshire  is  likely  to  resemble  the  celebrated  chapter  on  the 
snakes  of  Iceland  :  '  There  are  no  snakes  in  Iceland' !" 

Judge  Fowler  writes  of  them,  "  The  women  cast  bullets  for 
their  husbands,  sons,  or  brothers  to  carry  to  Bunker  Hill ;  and 
throughout  the  Revolution  the  women  carried  on  the  farms, 
cut  and  hauled  the  wood,  and  'kept  the  wolf  from  the  door.'" 
This  last  statement  is  emphasized  by  the  record  of  the  wife 
of  one  Ebenezer  Cobb,  of  Dublin,  New  Hampshire,  who  de- 
fended her  precious  pig  from  the  assault  of  a  bear,  by  means 
of  a  broom,  with  which  she  belabored  the  beast,  calling  for 
help  the  while  in  a  truly  feminine  and  ladylike  manner ;  but — 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  23 1 

let  women  not  fail  to  testify — she  drove  the  bear  away  before 
help  (men)  arrived. 

From  this  same  Dublin  the  dauntless  wife  of  William 
Greenwood  set  out  one  morning  in  winter  with  a  half-bushel 
of  corn,  in  a  bag,  over  her  shoulder,  and  walked  on  snow-shoes 
through  the  woods,  guided  by  marked  trees,  to  Peterborough, 
where  the  corn  was  ground,  and  whence  she  returned  the 
same  day, — sixteen  miles !  It  is  of  a  native  of  this  picturesque 
and  romantic  part  of  the  State  that  one  has  written,  "to  him 
was  natural  the  mountaineer's  freedom  of  thought,  and  a  hill- 
side species  of  worship."  It  could  hardly  be  otherwise  with 
people  who  dwelt,  like  these,  under  the  very  brow  of  "  the 
grand  Monadnock,"  of  which  Starr  King  writes,  "it  would  feel 
prouder  than  Mont  Blanc,  or  the  frost-sheeted  Chimborazo,  or 
the  topmost  spire  of  the  Himalaya,  if  it  could  know  that  the 
genius  of  Emerson  had  made  it  the  noblest  mountain  in 
literature." 

"  Ages  are  thy  days, 
Thou  grand  affirmer  of  the  present  tense, 
And  type  of  permanence ! 
Firm  ensign  of  the  fatal  Being, 
Amid  these  coward  shapes  of  joy  and  grief, 
That  will  not  bide  the  seeing  ! 

"  Hither  we  bring 

Our  insect  miseries  to  the  rocks ; 

And  the  whole  flight,  with  pestering  wing, 

Vanish,  and  end  their  murmuring, — 

Vanish  beside  these  dedicated  blocks, 

Which  who  can  tell  what  mason  laid? 

********* 
"  Complement  of  human  kind, 

Having  us  at  vantage  still, 

Our  sumptuous  indigence, 

O  barren  mound,  thy  plenties  fill! 

We  fool  and  prate; 

Thou  art  silent  and  sedate." 

Most  highlanders  will  claim  that  their  mountains  have  a 
language  of  their  own,  teaching  lessons  understood  fully  only 
by  their  own  children.     If  the  poet  is  right  in  his  reading,  it 


232      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

may  be  truly  said  of  the  women  of  New  Hampshire  that  they 
early  learned  their  lessons,  and  "by  heart" 

Dr.  Holmes  sums  up  the  lessons  learned  of  the  hills,  in  this 
wise  : 

"  Dumb  patience  in  trouble,  persistent  fortitude  against  ob- 
stacles, the  triumphant  power  of  character,  rooted  in  truth,  over 
the  hardships  of  life  and  wrath  of  the  world." 

A  worthy  descendant  of  one  of  these  well-taught  moun- 
taineers writes,  "  Both  my  grandmothers  were  heroines.  I 
think  so  because  they  lived  in  the  wilds  of  New  Hampshire 
and  were  always  loyal  to  their  country  and  their  God." 
"  They  lived  in  the  wilds  of  New  Hampshire !"  One  must 
know  what  this  means,  to  have  any  just  appreciation  of  these 
women.  This  was  the  land  where  the  mercury  fell  to  thirty- 
odd  degrees  below  zero,  where  a  bucket  of  water,  standing  in 
the  chimney-corner,  froze  solid  during  the  night,  and  where 
the  mothers  of  the  great  men  of  the  future  were  wont  to  step 
out  of  their  beds  of  a  morning  into  a  picturesque  little  snow- 
drift which  had  sifted  in  through  the  crevices  of  the  log  house 
during  the  night.  Here,  also,  withering  frosts  lasted  into 
June  and  began  again  in  September.  Life  to  the  women  of 
New  Hampshire  in  the  early  days,  the  mothers,  often,  of  from 
ten  to  twenty  children,  was  one  long  self-sacrifice,  often  a 
ceaseless  struggle  for  existence,  as  for  the  preservation  and, 
mirabile  dictu !  the  education  of  their  children.  Who  shall 
say  that  they  were  not  heroines,  to  live  in  such  a  land,  in 
such  days,  loyal  to  conscience  and  keeping  alive  always  the 
noblest  aspirations  for,  not  themselves,  but  their  children? 
They  were  very  old-fashioned  in  their  notions,  these  women 
of  New  Hampshire.  They  went  away  back  to  very  old  and 
very  high  authority  for  their  belief  in  the  doctrine  that  he 
who  would  be  greatest  should  be  the  servant  of  all. 

A  well-known  New  England  woman  of  distinguished  men- 
tal gifts,  whose  heart  is  as  strong  as  her  head,  has  said  that 
the  only  desire  she  ever  had  for  the  right  to  vote  came  from 
an  ambition  to  strengthen  the  hands  of  her  husband.  This 
woman  was  born  a  hundred  years  too  late.     She  belongs  to 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  233 

1776,  with  those  women  of  New  Hampshire  whose  whole 
lives  were  passed  in  strengthening  the  hands  of  their  men ; 
forever  in  the  background  themselves,  but  sending  to  the 
front  sons  wortby  of  the  mothers  that  bore  them.  There  was 
no  such  thing  as  comfort  for  any  of  these  people  in  these 
days ;  least  of  all  for  the  mothers.  The  days  were  filled  with 
toil ;  poverty  stood  always  at  the  door,  as  well  as  occasional 
Indians, — "  that  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  the  Puritan,"  as  Mr. 
Parkman  says ;  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  were  not  strangers  to 
them  ;  accompanying  all  of  which,  and  intensifying  all  forms 
of  hardship  and  suffering,  was  the  dreadful,  pitiless,  almost 
interminable  cold.  One  sympathizes  with  Starr  King  when 
writing  of  the  White  Mountain  people, — those  who  had  wan- 
dered "  into  the  more  lonely  aisles  and  the  side  chapels  of 
the  grand  cathedral  district  of  New  Hampshire," — he  says  : 

"When  there  was  so  much  land  within  the  bounds  of  civil- 
ization already  unoccupied  and  unclaimed,  what  could  have 
induced  families  eighty  years  ago  to  move  from  a  great  dis- 
tance in  order  to  colonize  the  banks  of  the  Ellis  River,  etc.  ? 
The  very  horses  of  the  settlers  on  the  Bartlett  meadows  in 
1777  would  not  stay,  but  struck  over  the  hills  due  south,  in 
the  direction  of  Lee,  from  which  they  had  been  taken.  They 
all  perished  in  the  forest  before  the  succeeding  spring." 

Mr.  King's  picture  of  Ethan  Crawford  and  his  wife  Lucy 
is  so  striking  an  illustration  of  what  seems  to  have  been  the 

mission  of  all  New  Hampshire  women  in  the  early  days 

to  rear  or  sustain  men — that  a  part  of  it  must  be  given 
here. 

"This  Jotun  of  the  mountains,"  Mr.  King  calls  him,  "whose 
life  furnishes  most  vivid  suggestions  of  the  closest  tug  of  man 
with  nature,  of  rare  courage  and  muscle  against  frost  and  gale, 
granite  and  savageness." 

Pie  was  a  giant  in  point  of  size  and  strength,  nearly  seven 
feet  in  height,  and  could  lift  five  hundred  weight  into  a  boat, 
carry  home  a  live  buck  on  his  back,  or  catch  a  load  of  hay  on 
his  shoulder,  to  save  it  from  toppling  over  a  precipice ;  and 
yet  he  was  a  helpless  baby  without  his  wife  Lucy.     A  deli- 


234 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


cate  woman,  but  the  source  of  all  the  moral  strength  of  this 
Hercules,  Lucy's  home  at  first  was  a  rough  log  house,  having 
a  stone  chimney,  "  in  which,  during  the  cold  spells  of  winter, 
more  than  a  cord  of  wood  was  burned  in  twenty-four  hours." 
"  Ethan's  life,"  says  Mr.  King,  "  was  perpetually  set  in  re- 
markable contrasts.  From  struggles  with  wild-cats  in  the 
forests  of  Cherry  Mountain  to  the  society  of  his  patient,  faith- 
ful, pious  wife,  was  a  distance  as  wide  as  can  be  indicated  on 
the  planet.  Mount  Washington  looked  down  into  his  un- 
couth domicile,  and  saw  there 

•  Sparta's  stoutness,  Bethlehem's  heart.' 

"  Lucy  taught  him  how  to  meet  calamity  without  despair 
or  repining.  When  his  house  burned  down  and  left  them  no 
property  but  one  cheese  and  the  milk  of  the  cows,  his  wife, 
though  sick,  was  not  despondent.  When  his  debts  pressed 
heavy  and  he  staggered  under  difficulties  as  he  never  did  under 
the  heaviest  load  in  the  forest,  she  assured  him  that  Provi- 
dence had  some  wise  purpose  in  their  trouble.  When  his 
crops  were  swept  off  and  his  meadows  filled  with  sand  by 
freshets,  Lucy's  courage  was  not  crushed.  He  knocked  down 
a  swaggering  bully  once  on  a  muster-field  in  Lancaster,  and 
was  obliged  to  promise  Lucy  that  he  would  never  give  way 
to  an  angry  passion  again.  When  death  invaded  their  house- 
hold and  his  own  powerful  frame  was  so  shaken  by  disease  and 
pain  that  a  flash  of  lightning,  as  he  said,  seemed  to  run  from 
his  spine  to  the  ends  of  his  hair,  his  wife's  religious  patience 
and  trust  proved  an  undrainable  cordial.  And  after  he  be- 
came weakened  by  sickness,  if  he  stayed  out  long  after  dark 
Lucy  would  take  a  lantern  and  go  into  the  woods  to  search 
for  him.  He  was  put  into  jail,  at  last,  for  debt,  as  was  the 
barbarous  custom  in  those  days  in  other  States  besides  New 
Hampshire.  Lucy  wrote  a  pleading  letter  to  his  chief  creditor, 
but  without  effect.  '  This,'  said  Ethan,  '  forced  me,  in  the  jail, 
to  reflect  on  human  nature,  and  it  overcame  me  so  that  I  was 
obliged  to  call  for  the  advice  of  a  physician  and  a  nurse.' " 

It  is  evident  that  Lucy  was  not  at  hand  now ! 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  235 

"  Other  forms  of  adversity  befell  him,  and  he  left  the  plateau 
at  the  base  of  Mount  Washington,  at  last,  accompanied  by 
Lucy,  whose  faith  did  not  allow  her  to  murmur." 

We  are  told  that  this  tamer  of  wild  beasts  had  an  absolute 
passion  for  flowers,  and  that  he  liked  to  collect  "  the  rare 
Alpine  plants  from  the  snowy  edges  of  the  ravines  on  the 
ridge,  where,  he  used  to  say,  nature  had  put  them  '  according 
to  their  merits.' " 

Is  this  the  influence  of  the  refining  hand  of  Lucy  ?  Or  is 
not,  rather,  the  selection  of  Lucy — herself  a  typical  Alpine 
plant,  with  her  sweet  purity,  combined  with  a  pleasant  whole- 
someness  and  stoutness  of  heart  which  fears  not  winter 
weather,  and  which  comes  of  being  rooted  on  a  rock — a 
proof  that  this  vein  of  tenderness  was  inherent  ? 

There  might  have  been  seen  in  some  of  the  New  Hamp- 
shire farm-houses,  even  within  the  memory  of  this  generation, 
a  few  lingering  representatives  of  the  heroic  women  of  the 
early  days,  or  those  upon  whom  their  mantles  had  fallen.  A 
certain  fine  scorn  of  physical  comfort,  together  with  a  lofty 
but  patient  toleration  of  their  men,  to  whom  they  considered 
indulgence  as  "  natural,"  always  characterized  them,  together 
with  great  reverence  for  the  Almighty,  for  "  his  word"  and  for 
the  works  of  his  hand,  as  became  dwellers  among  the  ever- 
lasting hills,  and — perhaps  the  most  distinguishing  trait  of  all, 
when  one  remembers  the  surroundings — an  intense,  undying 
respect,  a  positive  hunger  and  thirst,  for  education. 

They  "  took  comfort" — poor  creatures !  they  had  to  take 
it  by  force,  as  they  obtained  everything  else — in  overcoming 
all  obstacles  presented  by  fate,  or  overworked  and  discouraged 
husbands,  in  the  way  of  sending  the  boys  to  school  and  to 
college.  One  boy,  at  least,  must  go.  They  begged  and  en- 
treated, and  finally  insisted  upon  the  privilege  of  having  a  little 
less  food,  a  little  more  work,  a  little  less  clothing  (in  that  cli- 
mate !),  that  the  boys  might  have  an  education.  Can  we  un- 
derstand a  little,  now,  why  there  were  giants  in  those  days  ? 
These  are  some  of  the  sons, — Wentworth,  Langdon,  Stark, 
Cilley,  Jeremiah  Smith,  the  Sullivans,  the  Bells,  the  Masons, 


236      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Daniel  Webster  and  his  brother,  Cass,  Chase,  the  great  Dr. 
Amos  Twitchell  (leading  a  secluded  life,  but  whom  Dr. 
Bowditch  calls  "  one  of  the  most  exalted  members  of  my 
profession  :"  "  an  aboriginal  Christian"  he  names  him),  Amos 
Kendall,  the  Bartletts,  Horace  Greeley,  the  saintly  Peabodys, 
and  the  poet  Bryant.  Many  more  there  are.  "  Verily  by 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them." 

There  was  nobody  to  write  about  these  women.  The  pen 
was  not  mightier  than  the  sword  just  then  and  there :  indeed, 
the  picture  of  a  woman  in  the  act  of  writing  a  neat  little 
account  of  her  own  heroism  would  hardly  move  one,  even 
now,  when  greatness  seems,  somehow,  inseparably  connected 
with  a  pen,  as  contrasted  with  another,  sitting  at  that  restless 
spinning-wheel,  with  resolute  eyes  fixed  on  the  long  thread, 
and  feeling  that,  within  her,  which  transforms  it  into  a  mighty 
cable  strong  enough  to  lift  her  boy  to  almost  any  height 
among  the  great  and  the  good.  It  is  not  the  lack  of  heroic 
women  among  the  rocks  and  forests  of  New  Hampshire, 
which  makes  it  so  hard  to  find  one  of  whom  to  write  a  bio- 
graphy, but  it  is  much  like  the  search  for  the  native  "  May 
flower."  One  must  go  over  rough  roads,  on  to  barren  hill- 
sides, through  snow  and  ice  perhaps,  to  a  poverty  of  soil 
where  nothing  else  will  consent  to  live,  and  there  they  are 
indeed,  but  held  to  their  places  by  a  stem  tough  as  a  relentless 
purpose,  and  one  has  to  turn  over  hundreds  of  ugly  brown 
leaves  to  hunt  them  out  of  their  hiding-places,  where  they  are 
content  forever  to  abide,  filling  the  pine  woods  with  what  a 
child  of  New  Hampshire  might  perhaps  be  allowed  to  call  "an 
odor  of  sanctity." 

It  is  true  that  there  were  living  at  Portsmouth,  even  one 
hundred  years  ago,  many  distinguished  and  elegant  people. 
They  were  surpassed  by  none  of  their  compatriots  in  their 
devotion,  or  in  the  value  of  their  service  to  the  country.  The 
beautiful  old  houses  still  adorn  those  quiet,  charming  streets, 
and  it  is  most  satisfactory  to  find  many  of  them  still  occupied 
by  the  direct  descendants  of  the  original  owners.  This  is  not 
the  place  for  a  description  of  them;  but  it  is  hard  to  resist  the 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  237 

temptation  to  say  a  few  words  of  that  enchanting  relic  known 
now  as  the  Sherburne  House,  which  was  built  in  17 18  by- 
Alexander  McPheaderis,  and  inherited  by  his  daughter,  Mrs. 
Molly  Warner,  whose  christening-blanket  of  cloth  of  gold 
still  lies  in  undisturbed  folds  of  dignified  magnificence  under 
this  protecting  roof,  and  whose  portrait  by  Copley  hangs  on 
the  identical  nail  where  it  was  placed  at  least  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  years  ago,  vis-a-vis  to  the  counterfeit  presentment 
of  her  stately  mother  by  the  same  master's  hand.  One  feels 
constrained  to  walk  through  this  house,  up  and  down  the  fine 
staircase,  hat  in  hand,  doing  reverence;  and  even  after  the 
massive  old  oak  door  is  passed  and  closed,  with  its  great  bull's- 
eye  lights  overhead,  and  its  brass  latch  which  only  the  initiated 
have  the  power  to  raise,  it  is  found  that  the  century  is  still 
looking  down  upon  us, — for  on  this  wall  rises  a  lightning- 
rod  placed  there  under  the  directing  hand  of  Benjamin 
Franklin. 

One  may  still  see  in  the  beautiful  garden  of  Mr.  Alexander 
Ladd  a  rose-bush  from  which  seven  generations  of  ladies  and 
children  have  gathered  roses.  This  family  also  hold  an  estate 
here,  of  which  ten  generations  have  had  uninterrupted  pos- 
session, dating  from  their  ancestor  the  original  patentee  of 
the  State  of  New  Hampshire. 

Portsmouth  is  rich  in  relics.  Here  may  be  seen  scores  of 
familiar  and  confidential  letters  from  some  of  the  most  inter- 
esting people  of  the  last  century, — some  from  Martha  Wash- 
ington to  her  friend  Mrs.  Tobias  Lear,  which  are  reverently 
preserved  by  her  grand-niece,  as  well  as  those  of  Washington 
himself  written  to  his  private  secretary  Colonel  Lear  (in  whose 
arms  Washington  died),  with  others  from  many  of  the  most 
famous  people  of  the  period.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  linger 
here,  where  faithful  patriotic  service  was  not  necessarily  com- 
bined with  all  the  hardest  conditions  of  life. 

Here  is  where  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux  had  the  curiosity 
to  enter  a  church  on  Sunday  morning,  November  10,  1782, 
and,  although  "  the  audience  was  not  numerous,  owing  to  the 
cold,"  he  saw  some  "  handsome  women  elegantly  dressed."    But 


238      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

these  were  not  representative  women  of  New  Hampshire. 
These  were  too  near  to  civilization,  too  near  the  sea,  which 
mitigated  the  climate,  and,  with  it,  all  the  hardships  of  life. 
Those  others  lived,  many  of  them,  in  the  depths  of  the  forest 
primeval,  and  toward  the  north,  in  log  cabins,  like  that 
of  Abigail  Webster,  of  which  her  great  son  writes,  "  When 
my  father  built  his  log  cabin  and  lighted  his  fire,  his  smoke 
ascended  nearer  the  North  Pole  than  any  of  His  Majesty's 
New  England  subjects:  his  nearest  neighbor  on  the  north  was 
at  Montreal."  Here  is  where  the  cradle  of  Daniel  Webster 
"  hung  high  in  the  air,  like  the  eyrie  of  an  eagle,"  as  Mr. 
Charles  March  describes  it.  It  was  the  lady  of  this  establish- 
ment who,  her  husband  being  old,  an  invalid,  and  "  not  in 
easy  circumstances,"  must  be  consulted  about  sending  a  second 
son  to  college,  at  the  solicitation  of  his  brother,  since  "it  would 
take  all  the  father  was  worth,"  and  there  was  no  one  left  at 
home  "  to  carry  on  the  farm  and  take  care  of  the  family." 

"I  ventured  on  the  negotiation,"  says  Daniel  Webster,  "and 
it  was  carried,  as  other  things  are,  often,  by  the  earnest  and 
sanguine  manner  of  youth." 

Ah,  it  was  the  man  who  drew  that  picture  !  "  It  was  carried" 
by  the  heroic  dauntless  courage  of  an  unselfish  mother,  to 
whom  the  near  possibility  of  a  dependent,  comfortless  old  age 
did  not  weigh  in  the  balance  with  the  advancement,  the  always 
longed-for  education,  of  her  sons. 

"  Your  mother  has  always  said  that  you  would  be  some- 
thing or  nothing,"  seems  to  be  the  earliest  recorded  prophecy 
of  Webster's  greatness,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  taunt  of  the 
half-brothers  that  "  Dan  was  sent  to  school  that  he  might  get 
to  know  as  much  as  other  boys." 

A  picturesque  figure  of  the  early  days  is  that  of  Mary  Wil- 
son, of  Peterborough,  New  Hampshire,  described  as  "a  tall, 
graceful  woman,  with  polished  manners  for  those  days,  and 
somewhat  famous  for  her  taste  in  dress."  After  having  tried 
every  resource  of  her  Scotch-Irish  wit  to  induce  and  then  to 
frighten  her  husband  (a  good  fighting  officer  in  Stark's  army, 
but  not  distinguished  as  a  student  of  belles-lettres)  into  send- 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  239 

ing  her  oldest  son  to  college,  dwelling  eloquently  on  the  evi- 
dent ill  effects  of  bean-porridge  and  the  wearing  of  a  leather 
apron  on  the  health  of  her  first-born,  she  at  last  accomplished 
her  object,  and  in  1785,  and  for  several  years  later,  this  "tall, 
graceful  woman,"  with  her  "  polished  manners,"  arrayed 
doubtless  in  the  scarlet  cloak  of  the  period,  made  the  journey 
from  Peterborough,  New  Hampshire,  to  Boston,  a  distance 
of  sixty  miles,  on  horseback,  and  alone,  finding  her  way  by 
"  blazed  trees,"  since  "  for  a  large  part  of  the  way  there  were 
no  open  roads,"  leading  a  pack-horse  laden  with  great  pieces 
of  linen,  woven  from  her  own  flax,  together  with  other 
produce  of  her  farm,  which  she  sold  in  Boston,  carrying  the 
money  to  Cambridge,  to  pay  the  college  expenses,  besides  en- 
abling her  son  to  be,  as  one  of  his  class-mates  pleasantly  re- 
membered years  afterward,  "  the  best-dressed  man  in  college." 

This  attractive  and  efficient  woman  was  a  stanch  patriot, 
but  she  never  quite  gave  up  an  inherited  faith  in  the  right- 
eousness of  the  law  of  primogeniture.  It  is  recorded  of  her 
that  at  a  certain  Leap-year  ball  in  the  year  1808,  when  she  was 
seventy-three  years  old,  she  walked  the  whole  length  of  the 
hall,  looking  for  her  partner,  and  then,  with  great  stateliness, 
led  out  the  eldest  son  of  her  eldest  son  and  with  him  opened 
the  ball. 

It  is  said  that  never  were  more  "  fine  steps"  put  into  a 
contra-dance;  and,  although  the  boy  of  eleven  years  old  did 
his  very  best,  he  has  acknowledged  that  his  grandmother 
beat  him. 

The  town  of  Hollis,  New  Hampshire,  furnishes  at  least  one 
historic  heroine,  as  it  was  the  birthplace  of  Prudence  Cum- 
mings,  who  became  the  wife  of  David  Wright,  of  Pepperell, 
Massachusetts.  It  was  she  who,  at  the  head  of  a  band  of 
women  clothed  in  the  apparel  of  their  absent  husbands, 
sallied  forth,  in  1775,  to  defend  the  bridge  over  the  Nashua 
River,  between  Pepperell  and  Groton,  aroused  by  the  rumor 
that  the  regulars  were  approaching,  and  fired  with  a  deter- 
mination that  "  no  enemy  to  freedom  should  pass  that  bridge." 
The  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  their  prowess  approached 


240      WORl^HY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

in  the  form  of  a  notorious  tory,  on  horseback,  one  Leonard 
Whiting,  himself  also,  strangely  enough,  a  native  of  Hollis. 
It  was  poetic  justice  that  it  should  be  given  to  his  towns- 
woman  and  possible  school-mate  Mrs.  David  Wright,  in  her 
assumed  character  of  "  sergeant  of  the  guard,"  to  give  the 
order  that  he  should  be  seized,  taken  from  his  horse,  searched, 
and  detained  as  a  prisoner.  Dispatches  were  found  in  his 
boots,  and  the  Amazons  had  the  satisfaction  of  giving  over 
this  "  enemy  to  freedom"  to  the  "  Committee  of  Observation" 
at  Groton. 

The  history  of  New  Ipswich  furnishes  a  striking  story  il- 
lustrative of  the  spirit  of  the  women  of  the  early  days.  This 
time  it  is  not  a  mother,  but  a  sister,  a  girl  of  fifteen  years  old, 
who  goes  home  to  find  that  her  "  darling  brother"  has  been 
selected  to  make  one  of  the  fifteen  soldiers  who  are  "  wanted," 
and  who  are  to  march  "next  day  after  to-morrow, at  sunrise." 
The  poor  tired  mother  is  broken-hearted,  chiefly  because 
her  boy  will  suffer  for  proper  clothing.  "  The  sight  of  my 
mother's  tears  brought  all  the  hidden  strength  of  mind  and 
body  into  action,"  says  the  daughter.  It  evidently  was  not 
an  every-day  spectacle.  A  pair  of  warm  trousers  was  the 
especial  need.  The  young  girl  suggested  spinning  and 
weaving  the  cloth,  and  making  them,  on  the  spot.  "  There 
is  not  time,"  said  the  mother:  "the  wool  is  on  the  sheep's 
back,  and  the  sheep  are  in  the  pasture."  "  Take  the  salt- 
dish  and  catch  a  white  sheep,"  said  the  girl;  and  a  little 
brother  obeyed.  "  There  are  no  sheep-shears  within  three 
miles,"  mourned  the  mother.  "  I  can  use  my  small  shears," 
replied  the  girl, — which  she  did,  with  such  good  effect  that 
half  a  fleece  was  soon  sent  into  the  house  to  another  sister, 
who  had  made  ready  "  the  wheel  and  cards."  The  white 
sheep  was  now  released,  shorn  of  half  its  fleece,  and  "  Luther" 
was  dispatched  for  a  black  sheep,  which  he  brought,  and 
held  while  the  enterprising  young  manufacturer  secured 
enough  of  the  black  fleece  for  the  "  filling,"  and  another 
member  of  the  flock  ran,  half  clad,  to  join  his  astonished 
companions.     It   is  cruel   to  relate  that,  at  this  point,  this 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  24 1 

spirited  girl  of  the  period  was  met  by  her  mother, — no  fairy 
godmother  was  she,  but  rather  one  of  those  disheartening 
mortals  of  whom  it  has  been  said  that  "  the  very  tones  of 
the  voice  were  saturated  with  misfortune," — who  announced 
that  the  whole  enterprise  must  now  be  abandoned,  as  there 
was  a  long  web  of  linen  in  the  loom  !  "  I  will  find  an  empty 
loom,"  said  the  voice  of  Youth  and  Hope.  And  she  did! 
A  neighboring  farm-house  supplied  this  want,  and  the  spin- 
ning, weaving,  cutting,  and  making  were  all  accomplished 
within  forty  hours  of  the  catching  of  the  first  sheep,  without 
the  help  of  one  of  the  modern  labor-saving  appliances. 

The  girl,  who  lived  to  tell  this  story  after  many  years,  re- 
membered no  fatigue,  only  deep  satisfaction  in  the  relief  of 
her  mother,  the  secured  comfort  of  her  brother,  and  a  little 
pardonable  pride  in  having  helped  to  equip  a  young  warrior 
for  her  country  under  difficulties.  She  concludes  the  relation 
of  her  achievement,  however,  with  the  confession  that  after 
all  was  well  over,  and  the  brother  sent  away  with  cheerful 
God-speeds,  she  did  retire  to  a  solitary  place  and  have  "  a 
good  cry." 

One  of  the  strong  characteristics  of  most  of  these  women 
was  an  utter  intolerance  of  that  indescribable  disease,  that 
bane  of  modern  life,  known  as  "  nervousness."  An  illustration 
of  the  good  effect  of  growing  up  in  this  atmosphere  of  "  nerve," 
as  distinguished  from  "  nervous,"  was  given  by  a  New  Hamp- 
shire woman,  less  than  fifty  years  ago,  who,  when  an  alarming- 
looking  wound  was  laid  open  almost  entirely  across  the  palm 
of  her  own  left  hand  by  the  slipping  of  the  knife  on  a  loaf 
of  bread,  calmly  asked  for  a  fine  needle  and  thread,  and  called 
her  husband  to  hold  the  sides  of  the  wound  together  while 
she  herself  took  the  necessary  stitches.  It  is  perhaps  not 
surprising  that  the  husband  proved  wholly  unequal  to  the 
emergency,  except  in  calling  the  doctor.  The  heroic  patient, 
however,  succeeded  in  finding  another  woman,  nearly  as 
plucky  as  herself,  to  assist  at  this  feat  of  domestic  surgery, 
and  had  accomplished  it  all  before  the  arrival  of  the  physician. 
Of  this  woman  a  daughter  wrote,  at  last,  summing  up  the 

16 


242      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

impressions  of  a  whole  life  in  few  words,  "She  confronted 
life  with  heroic  courage,  and  met  death  with  a  Christian 
hope." 

No  sketch  descriptive  of  the  women  of  New  Hampshire 
would  be  complete  which  should  fail  to  make  especial  men- 
tion of  those  long-headed  and  light-hearted  Scotch-Irish 
people  of  Londonderry,  with  their  deep  religious  feeling, 
combined  with  an  amazing  love  of  fun,  "which  mingled 
strangely  with  the  most  serious  concerns."  It  was  of  these 
people  that  Judge  Smith  used  to  say  that  "  they  went  to 
church  on  Sunday,  practiced  all  that  was  good  in  the  sermon 
during  the  week,  and  laughed  at  all  that  was  ridiculous" 

"  A  Scotch  race,"  says  Dr.  Morison,  "  who  had  been 
for  two  or  three  generations  in  Ireland;  and  they  bore  the 
marks  of  their  double  origin.  There  was  a  grotesque  humor 
about  them  which,  in  its  way,  has  never  been  excelled.  It 
was  the  sternness  of  the  Scotch  Covenanter  softened  by  a 
century's  residence  abroad,  amid  persecution  and  trial,  wedded 
there  to  the  pathos  and  comic  humor  of  the  Irish,  and  then 
grown  wild  in  the  woods,  among  our  New  England  moun- 
tains." 

A  woman  of  this  race  was  Mary  Woodburn  Reid,  wife  of 
General  George  Reid.  During  more  than  seven  years,  while 
her  husband  was  engaged  in  military  service,  she  took  entire 
charge  of  the  family  and  of  the  farm  at  Londonderry.  She 
is  spoken  of  as  a  woman  "  of  rare  endowments  and  most  in- 
teresting character ;"  and  much  stress  is  laid  upon  the  equa- 
nimity of  her  temper,  which,  in  connection  with  a  vigorous 
intellect  and  great  cheerfulness  of  disposition,  gave  her  a 
powerful  and  beneficent  influence  over  the  more  excitable, 
strong  passions  of  her  husband,  a  gallant  officer  and  useful 
citizen. 

It  is  gratifying  to  find  that  even  in  those  days,  when  written 
words  seem  to  have  been  too  precious  to  use  in  the  cause  of 
women,  it  was  thought  worth  while  to  record  the  fact  that, 
in  his  public  life,  General  Reid  was  "  much  indebted  to  the 
wisdom  and  prudence  of  his  wife." 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  243 

A  few  extracts  from  the  letters  of  these  two  remain, — his 
bearing  the  significant  headings  "  Ticonderoga,"  "  Valley- 
Forge,"  and  "  White  Plains,"  written  often  as  if  to  a  brother 
officer,  in  a  style  most  complimentary  to  the  understanding 
of  his  wife, — and  hers  tender  and  true,  but  to  the  point,  re- 
porting, "  with  the  acuteness  of  one  who  knew,"  facts  and 
plans  relating  to  the  farm,  the  stock,  etc.,  concluding,  how- 
ever, with  the  wifely  words,  "  all  this  with  your  advice,  not 
otherwise,"  ending  one  letter,  like  the  God-fearing  woman  she 
was,  in  this  quaint  fashion  :  "  May  the  good  will  of  Him  who 
dwelt  in  the  bush  rest  and  abide  with  you." 

There  is  an  undercurrent  of  trouble  and  sadness  in  these 
letters,  which  tells  of  heavy  burdens  bravely  borne,  although 
it  never  gets  put  into  words ;  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  reach  at 
last  the  letter  from  General  Reid,  when  the  war  is  over,  telling 
his  wife  to  be  prepared  for  the  arrival  of  a  chest  containing 
the  old  regimental  colors  and  the  standard  of  the  regiment, 
"  which  you  will  take  especial  care  of."  It  is  safe  to  believe 
that  she  was  worthy  of  the  trust,  for  it  was  of  her  that  her 
friend  General  Stark  said,  "  If  there  is  a  woman  in  New 
Hampshire  worthy  to  be  Governor  of  the  State,  it  is  Molly 
Reid!"  She  justified  this  confidence  also,  after  the  manner 
of  the  New  Hampshire  women  of  her  day;  for  the  State  has 
to  thank  her  for  a  most  popular  Governor,  in  the  person  of 
her  grandson  the  late  Hon.  Samuel  Dinsmoor. 

Elizabeth  Morison  Smith,  mother  of  Hon.  Jeremiah  Smith, 
Chief-justice  of  New  Hampshire,  was,  in  most  respects,  a 
typical  Londonderry  woman, — a  woman  of  energy  and  spirit, 
of  strong  sense  and  good  principles,  who  had  ten  children  in 
twelve  years,  but  who  found  time  for  a  prodigious  amount 
of  work,  both  in-doors  and  out. 

Would  that  a  picture  of  her  had  been  preserved  as  she 
entered  the  village  church  of  Peterborough  about  the  year 
175 1,  attired  in  one  of  "the  only  two  silk  gowns  she  ever 
owned,"  which  are  still  preserved  by  her  descendants  !  She 
only  wore  them  on  "  sacrament  days"  and  when  her  children 
were   baptized !     Then   her  costume  was  completed    by  the 


244      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

addition  of  a  finely-plaited  white  linen  apron,  put  on  as  she 
entered  the  church,  and  taken  off  and  folded  up  in  "the  last 
singing."  She  was  a  strict  disciplinarian;  and  her  children 
never  forgot  the  throwing  down  of  a  certain  shelf  by  "Jerry" 
in  the  midst  of  some  unusual  merry-making,  when  the  con- 
sistent mother,  undeterred  from  the  path  of  duty  by  the 
presence  of  company,  left  all,  to  administer  the  canonical 
whipping;  and  when,  after  a  little  while,  she  discovered  that 
neighbor  Miller's  punch-bowl,  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  had 
been  broken  in  the  scrimmage,  feeling  that  the  punishment 
had  been  wholly  inadequate  to  the  occasion,  she  at  once 
whipped  him  again,  conscientiously  and  thoroughly.  She 
never  allowed  her  children  to  ask  what  they  were  to  have 
to  eat,  and  they  grew  up,  men  and  all,  like  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, "  with  great  indifference  to  such  things."  She  was,  never- 
theless, a  kind-hearted,  loving  mother,  and  Jerry  did  not 
remember  more  than  two  or  three  whippings.  Perhaps  there 
were  no  more  punch-bowls  left  to  break  ! 

When  the  neighbors'  children  taunted  one  of  the  little 
girls  of  this  family  because  she  did  not  wear  a  jerkin,  she 
remembered,  years  afterward,  that  her  mother  comforted  her 
by  saying,  doubtless  with  the  canny  smile  peculiar  to  her 
race,  "Never  mind,  ye'll  hae  jerkins  when  they  hae  nane;"  a 
prophecy  which  was  remembered,  because,  thanks  to  the 
frugal  industrious  mother,  "  it  came  true."  The  chief-justice 
himself  was  proud  to  remember  a  pose  in  which  she  must 
forever  have  stood  in  his  memory.  On  an  occasion  when 
he  had  made  a  little  progress  on  the  road  which  was  to 
lead  to  fame,  after  he  had  got  only  a  little  learning,  he  pre- 
sumed to  correct  his  mother's  vigorous  but  not  always 
grammatical  language,— -when  the  self-respecting  old  woman, 
with  her  masterful  spirit,  stepped  on  to  the  maternal  throne 
at  once,  and  silenced  him  with  the  words,  in  which  one  seems 
to  hear  a  certain  quiver  of  tone  in  spite  of  the  sternness, 
"  Wha  taught  you  language?  It  was  my  wheel !  and  when 
ye'll  hae  spun  as  mony  long  threeds  to  teach  me  grammar 
as  I  hae  to  teach  you,  I'll  talk  better  grammar." 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  245 

How  glad  she  would  have  been  to  know  that  her  children 
would  always  remember  the  "  sweet  Christian  charity"  dis- 
played by  her  when  a  poor  young  relative,  a  girl  who  lived 
in  her  house,  had  been  guilty  of  some  backsliding  of  so 
serious  a  nature  as  to  cause  the  calling  together  of  a  family 
council  to  see  what  should  be  done  !  A  relative  of  the  family, 
considered  to  be  "  one  of  the  elect,"  advised  concerning  the 
poor  creature,  represented  as  "  half-witted  and  friendless," 
that  they  should  "  gar  her  into  the  barn,  to  pray,"  as  not  fit 
company  for  such  as  they ;  a  proposition  instantly  and  indig- 
nantly rejected  by  this  mother  in  Israel,  who  took  her  stand 
at  once  by  the  side  of  the  offender.  This  woman,  with  a 
soul  as  white  as  the  linen  apron  she  folded  up  in  the  last 
singing,  rose  up  then,  and  stands  forever  before  her  descend- 
ants, a  genuine  follower  of  Him  who  came  to  save  that  which 
was  lost. 

These  were  not  at  all  akin  to  that  class  of  women  of  whom 
Mr.  Kingsley  sings :  they  never  seem  to  have  felt  called  upon 
to  "  weep"  while  the  men  were  at  "  work."  On  the  contrary, 
they  had  not  only  great  powers  for  work  themselves,  but  a 
most  delightful  capacity  for  laughing  over  their  tasks,  and 
even  singing,  the  while.  "  All  the  children  of  the  neighbor- 
hood crowded  about  to  hear  Mrs.  Smith  sing  Scotch  songs," — 
perhaps  while  she  was  harvesting  the  corn,  which  she  always 
helped  to  do. 

Dr.  Morison  tells  a  story  to  illustrate  the  almost  uncon- 
trollable sense  of  humor  which  characterized  these  cheery 
people.  It  is  of  a  mournful  occasion  when  an  intemperate 
relative  of  some  of  them  was  found  dead  by  the  roadside. 
The  friends  were  all  assembled,  and  in  a  truly  sorrowful  frame 
of  mind,  when  "  the  coroner  made  some  ridiculous  blunders 
in  reading."  One  by  one  the  company  was  overcome  by  the 
ludicrousness  of  it,  until  at  last  all  gave  in,  and  the  whole 
group  of  mourners  joined  in  a  burst  of  irrepressible  laughter. 
Some  worthy  descendants  of  these  hard-working  laughers 
may  still  be  found  in  New  Hampshire.  Thank  God  for  the 
perpetual  sunshine  they  shed  about  them ! 


246      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

However  much  the  modern  methods  of  education  and  do- 
mestic discipline  may  differ  from  those  which  guided  these 
primitive  people,  there  can  be  no  doubts  concerning  the  purity 
and  unselfishness  of  the  motive,  nor  the  brave  fidelity  to  what 
they  saw  as  duty,  which  seems  to  have  distinguished  these 
mothers  from  first  to  last.  That  the  results  are  so  good 
seems  only  another  of  the  many  proofs  of  the  superiority  of 
example  over  precept,  and  of  character  over  all  things. 

There  is  something  especially  satisfactory  in  the  spectacle 
of  transmitted  virtues,  as  much  so,  perhaps,  as  the  reverse  is 
disappointing  and  painful.  An  unusually  happy  illustration 
is  furnished  in  the  person  of  Judge  Smith,  himself  one  of  the 
wisest,  best,  and  most  attractive  of  men,  and  in  that  of  his 
daughter,  Ariana  Smith.  In  the  son  one  finds  the  fine,  strong 
intellect,  integrity,  and  energy  of  the  mother, — the  same  gen- 
erous temper  also,  the  same  dignity  and  simplicity,  and  the 
same  humor,  which,  "  like  the  foam  and  phosphoric  light  in 
the  wake  of  a  man-of-war,  often  marked  the  progress  of  his 
mind  through  subjects  the  most  profound."  It  is  impossible 
not  to  recognize  the  combination  of  traits  as  the  mother's 
own,  although  lending  dignity  and  grace  now  to  the  character 
of  a  chief-justice.  The  same  insignia  of  nobility  were  worn 
by  the  granddaughter.  And  here  the  fine,  sound  old  root 
blossoms  into  such  grace  and  charm  and  sweetness  that  her 
most  faithful  and  loving  chronicler  and  kinsman,  Rev.  Dr. 
Morison,  to  whom  the  world  owes  much  for  the  picture  of 
this  remarkable  family  trio,  evidently  dares  not  trust  himself 
to  put  into  words  what  is  in  his  heart  and  memory,  without  a 
curb. 

She  was  born  in  Exeter,  New  Hampshire,  in  1797,  and  she 
lived  only  about  thirty  years.  Her  mother,  whose  name  was 
Eliza  Ross, — a  gentle,  lovely  woman, — was  a  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Ariana  (Brice)  Ross,  of  Maryland,  from  whom,  through  a  line 
of  grandmothers  of  Bohemian  extraction,  Ariana  Smith  in- 
herited her  uncommon  name. 

There  are  a  few  people  still  living  who  remember  how  she 
looked  and   what  she  was.     Twenty  years   ago  there  were 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 


247 


many,  who  were  never  tired  of  telling  of  the  graces  of  her 
person,  mind,  and  heart.  It  must  have  been  a  rare  counte- 
nance which  left  so  vivid  and  precious  an  impression. 

"  Her  face  was  full  of  contrasts  and  contradictions,"  says 
one.  It  typified  well,  then,  the  admirable  balance  of  her  char- 
acter. Soft  black  hair,  with  a  surpassingly  white  skin,  great 
earnest  blue  eyes  which  looked  out  from  under  quite  black 
lashes,  and  a  brow  of  that  peculiar  conformation  which  tells 
of  great  quickness  of  perception.  The  exceptionally  animated, 
almost  eager  expression  of  the  eyes  was  most  striking,  taken 
in  connection  with  the  reposeful,  self-contained  lines  about 
the  mouth.  "  Her  voice,  subdued  and  passionless,  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  fervor  of  her  words." 

United  to  rare  personal  beauty  were  uncommon  dignity  and 
grace  of  manner.  It  was  the  dignity  of  complete  simplicity 
and  self-forgetfulness,  and,  with  it,  she  had  the  art  of  putting 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  persons  entirely  at  ease  in  her  pres- 
ence. One  of  the  most  significant  tributes  to  her  memory  is 
the  oft-repeated  and  most  grateful  acknowledgment  of  men, 
many  of  them  afterwards  famous  and  honored  in  various 
walks  in  life,  who,  while  they  were  students  at  the  well-known 
Exeter  Academy,  at  the  unformed  and  unattractive  age,  were 
first  aroused  to  new,  higher,  and  happier  views  of  life  by  this 
beautiful,  gifted  woman.  It  is  said  that  the  most  awkward 
boy,  struggling  with  that  exquisite  suffering  which  grows  out 
of  excessive  shyness,  was  made  to  forget  himself  at  Judge 
Smith's  hospitable  table  by  the  altogether  indescribable  sym- 
pathy, grace,  and  tact  of  his  daughter  Ariana.  Some  of  them 
have  said  that  it  was  in  her  presence,  and  under  the  influence 
of  her  exquisite  courtesy,  that  they  learned  their  first  lessons 
in  self-respect.  This  tender  consideration  for  the  feelings 
of  others  was  quite  in  keeping  with  what  has  been  called  the 
most  striking  feature  of  her  character, — that  charity  which 
"  thinketh  no  evil,"  and  which  always  inclined  her  to  look  at 
people  in  the  light  of  their  virtues  rather  than  of  their  faults, 
although  she  had  far  too  much  keenness  of  perception  to  con- 
found the  two.     Her  life  was  almost  wholly  uneventful,  but 


248       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

she  was  one  of  those  rare  people  who,  without  any  great  op- 
portunity for  action,  succeed  in  making  a  very  unusual  and 
lasting  impression  on  all  those  about  them.  It  is  not  what  she 
did,  but  what  she  was,  which  has  put  a  glory  about  her  name 
and  handed  it  down  through  at  least  two  generations  of  her 
neighbors  and  kindred. 

It  is  impossible  to  improve  on  Dr.  Morison's  description 
of  her,  in  his  biography  of  her  charming  and  distinguished 
father : 

"  Her  devotion  to  domestic  duties,  and  particularly  to  her 
mother  through  years  of  painful  disease,  might,  but  for  the 
peculiar  elasticity  of  her  mind,  have  worn  her  down,  yet  to 
the  last  she  was  like  one  whose  life  had  been  a  perpetual  sun- 
shine. Her  enthusiasm  might  have  betrayed  her  into  indis- 
cretions, but  for  the  prudent  self-control  that  never  forsook 
her;  and  the  rare  good  sense  that  ran  through  all  her  conduct 
might  have  made  her  commonplace,  but  for  the  enthusiasm 
of  her  nature.  The  great  extent  of  her  reading,  and  the  accu- 
racy of  her  knowledge  in  the  more  solid  as  well  as  in  the 
lighter  branches  of  literature,  might  have  made  her  pedantic, 
were  it  not,  as  her  father  said,  that  she  was  more  studious  to 
conceal  than  to  exhibit  her  accomplishments.  '  She  had,'  he 
said,  when  his  heart  was  wrung  with  the  anguish  of  bereave- 
ment, '  a  mind  intelligent  and  ingenuous,  having  learning 
enough  to  give  refinement  to  her  taste,  and  far  too  much  taste 
to  make  pretensions  to  learning.  She  had  a  feminine  high- 
mindedness.'  'She  often. shined  in  conversation,  but  never 
strove  to  shine.'  '  As  far  as  regards  literature,  she  never  (in 
conversation)  aimed  at  doing  her  best;  and  yet  she  was  not 
indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  her  father  and  her  friends.'  Her 
almost  passionate  love  of  society,  and  the  attentions  with 
which  she  was  loaded,  when  in  the  fashionable  world,  by  those 
whose  attentions  are  most  flattering  to  a  woman  of  sense  and 
refinement,  might  have  made  her  giddy ;  her  love  of  nature, 
of  rural  life,  and  the  simple  intercourse  of  the  country,  might 
have  made  her  shy  and  timid,  but  for  the  genuineness  of  her 
feelings  and  the  simplicity  of  her  character.     '  I  rely,'  said  her 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  249 

father,  '  with  entire  confidence  on  your  good  taste  and  discre- 
tion,— two  things  oftener  united  than  is  commonly  thought.' 
At  a  large  party,  in  the  city,  it  might  seem  as  if  she  had  no 
heart  or  thought  for  anything  else;  but  she  gladly  returned 
to  the  quiet  home,  where  almost  all  her  time  was  spent,  and 
there  appeared  as  if  she  had  never  been  absent,  or  had  gone 
abroad  only  to  bring  back  new  treasures  for  the  enjoyment 
of  her  friends.  Substantial  books  were  read,  kind  acts  and 
serious  duties  performed,  as  if  they  were  only  a  pastime  or 
amusement.  Nothing  was  ever  said  of  them,  and  therefore 
her  letters  and  her  usual  intercourse  with  society  gave  only 
the  most  superficial  view  of  her  mind.  Her  charities,  like  the 
charities  of  heaven,  came  often  without  revealing  the  hand 
that  brought  them." 

The  characters  of  father  and  daughter  were  formed  on  the 
same  model,  and  a  positively  romantic  devotion  and  intimacy 
existed  between  them.  There  was  complete  sympathy  of 
taste  and  feeling,  and  very  charming  are  the  glimpses  of  their 
almost  constant  companionship. 

In  May,  1820,  she  writes  to  a  young  friend,  "  I  particularly 
like,  the  end  of  May  or  first  of  June,  to  receive  my  friends, 
because  my  father  is  then  certainly  at  home." 

"April,  1 82 1. — My  father  leaves  us  next  Monday  for  many 
weeks.  I  hope  you  will  pity  our  desolate  state,  and  enliven 
it  by  frequent  letters." 

"  May,  1 822. — I  am  writing  with  a  pen  of  my  father's.  What 
gallant  and  sincere  things  it  would  say  if  guided  by  its  mas- 
ter's hand  !" 

Again,  she  writes  of  his  appearance  coming  out  of  church, 
how  she  knew  him  first  in  the  crowd  by  the  flowers  in  his 
button-hole,  "  which  are  freshly  put  there  twice  a  day." 

During  seven  years'  service  in  Congress,  Judge  Smith  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  many  of  the  best  people  in  the 
country,  who  remained  life-long  friends.  It  was  in  their  soci- 
ety that  his  daughter  was  appreciated  and  much  admired. 

It  is  pleasant  to  be  told  that  she  enjoyed  this  thoroughly. 
Thus,  she  writes  of  a  ball  at  Boston  where  she  danced  every 


250       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

dance,  "  I  admired  my  own  ingenuity  in  talking  to  my  partner 
while  I  was  actually  dancing,  and  at  every  pause  listening  to 
Mr.  M.,  who  stood  behind  me  and  was  very  agreeable." 

The  same  letter  discloses  another  side  of  her  character,  for 
she  writes  that  before  going  to  the  ball  she  had  been  reading 
a  new  number  of  the  North  American  Review,  and  had  de- 
cided that  Mr.  F.  C.  Gray,  whom  she  calls  "the  first  young 
man  of  Boston,"  must  be  the  author  of  an  article  which  had 
greatly  pleased  her.  She  adds  that  she  learned  in  the  ball- 
room, from  Mr.  Gray  himself,  that  the  article  was  written  by 
his  brother. 

It  may  perhaps  have  been  in  such  an  hour  that  one  of  her 
admirers  was  inspired  to  write  of  her,  in  a  birthday  ode,  which 
still  exists, — 

"  Such  beauty  and  such  strength  of  mind 
Were  ne'er  so  happily  combined." 

The  fragments  of  a  youthful  correspondence  which  remain 
to  us  are  full  of  proofs  of  a  genuine  love  of  literature,  as  well 
as  a  cultivation  of  taste  not  altogether  common  in  the  women 
of  Ariana  Smith's  day.  It  is  also  interesting  as  it  calls  our 
attention  to  the  wholesomely  frugal  literary  diet  of  the  period. 

"  We  are  daily  expecting  from  Boston  a  box  of  books,  which 
came  in  the  London  packet,  all  that  are  readable  for  a  lady, — 
'  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,'  '  Nichols's  Anecdotes,'  and,  I  blush 
to  write  such  discordant  names,  Miss  Porter's  new  novel." 

To  another  friend  she  writes  of  her  eager  anticipations  of 
the  forthcoming  "  Edgeworth  memoir,"  calling  her  friend's 
attention  to  a  pleasant  similarity  between  Miss  Edgeworth 
and  Mme.  de  Stael, — "their  blind  devotion  to  their  fathers." 
Ariana  Smith  was  surpassed  by  neither  of  them  in  this  filial 
grace. 

To  her  intimate  friend  Miss  Holmes,  an  elder  sister  of  Dr. 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  she  writes, — 

"  My  dear  Mary,— 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  answer  your  letter  so  very  soon,  but  I 
have  just  finished  reading  one  of  Barry  Cornwall's  'Dramatic 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  zc\ 

Scenes,'  which  is  so  very  tragical  that  I  cannot  think  of  sleep- 
ing unless  I  can  contrive,  by  writing  to  you,  to  give  my 
thoughts  an  entirely  new  direction.  Few  things  give  me 
such  pleasant  reflections  as  Cambridge  and  you ;  and  you,  to 
whom  I  so  often  repair  to  borrow  animation,  will  excuse  me, 
I  hope,  for  resorting  to  you  now  for  composure." 

These  letters  were  evidently  written  in  the  days  of  golden 
leisure,  before  the  era  of  postal  cards  and  spasmodic  para- 
graphs, before  the  coming  of  that  date  "  when  time  shall  be 
no  more,"  as  a  woman  of  1876  cleverly  designates  our  own 
day.  That  they  were  carefully-written  letters  on  both  sides, 
worthy  of  two  readings,  we  may  infer  from  the  fact  that 
"Ariana"  writes  to  "  Mary,"  "I  have  dispatched  to  Charlotte 
your  last  letter,  after  having  tacked  some  of  my  linsey-woolsey 
to  your  silver  tissue." 

Ariana's  letters  give  constant  proof  of  an  admirable  ca- 
pacity for  enjoyment,  and  of  that  enthusiasm  of  nature  out  of 
which  it  grows.  She  writes  of  having  had  delight  in  the 
acting  of  Kean  in  the  primitive  days  when  the  selectmen  of 
the  town  of  Boston  were  driven  to  active  measures  to  prevent 
a  riot  resulting  from  the  mad  rush  for  tickets.  During  the 
same  visit  to  Boston  she  writes,  "  Sunday  was  the  most  de- 
lightful day  possible  to  imagine.  Mr.  Channing  gave  us  a 
noble  sermon  upon  Christian  zeal !  but  how  did  that  and 
all  other  discourses  vanish  from  my  mind  when  I  heard  the 
splendid  effusions  of  Professor  Everett's  genius  !  Such  bril- 
liant ideas,  so  novel  and  profound,  such  beautiful  imagery, 
such  eloquent  gestures.  I  never  before  knew  what  genius 
could  effect.  We  were  well  rewarded  for  our  walk  through 
wet  streets  to  the  North  End."  Again  she  refers  to  this 
sermon  which  so  aroused  her  youthful  enthusiasm :  she  says 
of  an  exciting  book,  "  it  makes  me  thrill  as  much  as  Mr. 
Everett's  description  did  yesterday  of  '  the  chariot-wheels  of 
judgment  rolling  down  the  courts  of  heaven.'" 

It  is  pleasant  to  find  entire  freedom  from  all  sectarian  nar- 
rowness in  this  vigorous  young  mind.     "  I  know  not  when  I 


252      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

have  been  more  interested  in  a  preacher,"  she  writes,  "  than  I 
was  in  the  eloquent  and  truly  devout  Bishop  Cheverus," — the 
first  Roman  Catholic  bishop  in  Massachusetts. 

She  was  a  favorite  and  an  ardent  admirer  of  her  father's 
friend  Daniel  Webster ;  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  she  very- 
much  enjoyed  the  journey  to  Hanover,  to  attend  the  Dart- 
mouth Commencement  of  the  year  1819,  with  her  father  and 
this  great  man,  whose  personal  fascination  has  perhaps  never 
been  surpassed,  for  traveling-companions.  "  Mr.  Webster  was 
in  high  spirits, — talked,  laughed,  and  sang  the  whole  way," 
she  writes.  Mr.  Webster  disported  himself  in  this  wise  only 
in  very  congenial  society.  She  was  only  about  twenty  years 
old  at  this  time,  but  it  was  a  discriminating  judgment  which 
led  her  to  select  the  performance  of  a  certain  young  Mr. 
Choate,  of  the  graduating  class,  as  the  one  most  worthy  of 
note;  "really  admirable,"  she  calls  it,  adding  that  "this 
young  man  is  a  fine  scholar,  a  hard  student,  and  uncommonly 
interesting!'  This  was,  of  course,  no  other  than  the  great 
Rufus. 

It  has  been  said  that  perhaps  the  greatest  single  pleasure  of 
her  life,  if  one  may  judge  from  her  frequent  recurrence  to  it 
afterwards,  was  found  in  listening  to  Mr.  Webster's  great  oration 
at  Plymouth  in  December,  1820.  "The  Godlike  man!"  was 
her  exclamation.  This  was  the  occasion  of  which  Mr.  Ticknor 
wrote,  "  When  I  came  out,  I  was  almost  afraid  to  come  near 
him.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  was  like  the  mount  that  might 
not  be  touched,  and  that  burned  with  fire."  Mr.  Ticknor 
adds  that  after  the  oration  was  off  his  mind  Mr.  Webster 
became  "  gay  and  playful  as  a  kitten."  Ariana's  letter  to  her 
mother  describing  this  eventful  day  contained  a  few  words 
to  the  same  effect.  "The  great  orator  was  standing  in  a  circle 
of  gentlemen,  while  I  was  promenading  the  room,  leaning  on 

Mr. 's  supporting  arm  :  the  moment  I  came  opposite  to 

where  Mr.  Webster  was  standing,  he  broke  from  the  group, 
and,  warmly  seizing  my  hand  with  both  of  his,  exclaimed,  in 
an  animated  tone, '  Oh,  you  dear  little  sylph  from  New  Hamp- 
shire, how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  here !' " 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  253 

Whenever  she  traveled  with  her  father,  the  two  are  de- 
scribed as  "  exploring  and  enjoying  with  an  almost  childish 
zest  and  freshness  of  interest."  She  writes  to  her  mother, 
on  one  of  these  occasions,  of  an  especially  pleasant  day  in  a 
stage-coach,  made  so  by  the  companionship  of  a  "  charm- 
ing young  married  man,  who  has  traveled,  is  literary,  com- 
municative, and  well-bred."  One  can  readily  believe  all 
this  when  it  is  found  to  be  Mr.  William  H.  Prescott  who 
is  thus  described,  and  also  that  "  father  and  Mr.  P.  kept 
up  a  constant  interchange  of  wit  and  humor.  It  was  the 
most  entertaining  ride  we  ever  took."  This  seems  no  mean 
praise  when  one  finds  that  they  had  as  traveling-compan- 
ions during  parts  of  this  journey  Chancellor  Kent  and  his 
family,  Mr.  Emmett.of  New  York,  and  Mr.  Hoffman,  of  Balti- 
more. 

It  is  during  this  journey  that  the  invalid  wife  and  mother 
at  home  gives,  in  a  few  words,  an  idea  of  what  the  home  life 
was.  "  I  wish  you  could  see  your  garden  to-night,"  she 
writes.  "  It  is  delightful ;  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  the 
divinities  of  the  place  are  away.  Do  not  let  me  see  in  your 
letters  that  you  are  not  enjoying  yourselves;  for  never  did  any 
one  make  such  sacrifice  as  I.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  should 
like  even  to  hear  you  [the  judge]  talk  to  the  cats  in  your  very 
loudest  tones." 

She  was  never  left  again,  and  during  the  remaining  two 
years  of  her  life  Ariana's  devotion  to  her  mother  was  untiring. 
She  surrounded  the  invalid  with  an  atmosphere  of  constant 
cheerfulness  and  sunshine,  assuming  every  care  and  lighten- 
ing every  burden  for  her  father  in  his  deep  affliction.  It  is 
not  surprising  that  he  should  have  written  to  her,  during  a 
short  absence,  soon  after  her  mother's  death,  "How  good  and 
happy  a  thing  it  is  that  I  have  no  anxiety  about  affairs  at 
home  !"  and  again,  "  My  dear  Ariana,  your  letter  was  very, 
very  good  and  kind,  and  cheered  me  mightily.  I  am  glad 
such  sentiments  are  in  you,  and  that  they  come  out.  God 
bless  you  !  .  .  .  I  am  glad  this  will  reach  you  Saturday :  it 
will  come  fresh  from  your  best  friend,  and  you  will  readily 


254      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

imagine,  better  than  he  can  express,  the  love  he  bears  you, 
and  always  has,  and  ever  will." 

No  picture  of  the  daily  intercourse  between  Judge  Smith 
and  his  daughter  would  be  complete  which  should  omit  the 
element  of  fun  which  is  constantly  appearing  in  it, — the 
mixture  of  playfulness  and  seriousness  which  had  come 
straight  down  from  the  Scotch-Irish  mother  and  grand- 
mother, and  which  gave  an  indescribable  charm  and  flavor 
to  life. 

At  one  time  Judge  Smith  writes  to  his  daughter  of  the  pet 
cats,  of  which  there  were  five,  "  The  fifth  member  of  our 
fireside  party  says,  or  seems  to  say,  that  she  wishes  you 
were  at  home,  and  regrets  she  was  not  taught  to  write,  that 
she  might  communicate  with  you  in  Boston.  So,  you  see, 
you  are  kindly  remembered  by  all." 

It  was  a  family  custom  to  carry  on,  or  report,  imaginary 
conversations  with  the  cats,  over  the  breakfast-table,  treating 
often  of  the  trials  of  cats,  their  loves  and  griefs  and  views  of 
life.  "The  humor  of  these  extempore  fables,"  says  Dr. 
Morison,  "  was  often  irresistible.  Not  a  little  sly  satire  and 
instruction,  as  well  as  amusement,  was  administered  by  the 
sagacious  cats  to  other  members  of  the  household." 

Another  vein  is  touched  in  a  fragment  of  a  letter  from 
Judge  Smith  to  Ariana  during  an  absence  of  her  own, — this 
when  she  was  a  school-girl :  "  I  hope  you  attend  church 
regularly,  my  dear:  it  is  no  matter  what  the  form  of  religion 
is,  but  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  have  the  sub- 
stance; and  though  church-going  is  not  religion,  it  is  a  means 
of  becoming  religious." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  that  these  words  produced  a 
deep  impression,  coming  from  one  of  whom  it  is  said, 
"  Though  for  many  years  the  member  of  a  church,  he  was 
never  loud  in  his  religious  professions.  Indeed,  he  was  so 
disgusted  by  the  levity  with  which  the  most  sacred  of  names 
and  the  most  solemn  of  subjects  are  sometimes  bandied  about 
by  religious  people,  and  he  so  shrank  from  every  semblance 
of  ostentation  and  cant,  that  it  was  not  easy  to  see  at  once, 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  255 

from  his  conversation  or  outward  conduct,  how  deeply  these 
things  entered  into  his  character." 

Very  soon  after  the  death  of  her  mother,  from  consumption, 
the  only  brother  of  Miss  Smith  fell  a  victim  to  the  same  dis- 
ease. And  now,  again,  her  days  were  passed  in  carrying 
peace  and  comfort  to  a  sick-room  ;  but,  even  now,  the  even- 
ings were  spent  in  the  charming  library  with  her  father.  All 
the  latest  books  were  read  together,  enjoyed  together,  and 
criticised  together.  An  occasional  game  of  chess  gave  variety 
to  the  evenings,  and  conversation  never  flagged.  The  father 
was  now  seventy  years  old.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore, 
that  "  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  she  might  be  taken 
from  him," — the  light  of  his  eyes,  the  last  one  of  his  five  chil- 
dren, whom  he  had  always  counted  upon  as  the  one  to  be  left 
to  him. 

At  the  beginning  of  one  of  the  cruel  New  Hampshire  win- 
ters, a  little  cloud,  not  larger  than  a  man's  hand,  hung  over 
the  beautiful  home  in  Exeter.  They  called  it  a  violent  cold, 
and  nobody  was  alarmed, — least  of  all  the  patient.  Nothing 
was  given  up,  and  there  was  still  sunshine  in  the  house ;  but 
the  enemy  was  always  at  work,  and  early  in  March  she  gave 
up  the  evenings  in  the  library, — in  fact,  could  not  leave  her 
room. 

How  soon  she  began  herself  to  realize  the  truth  none  will 
ever  know ;  but  the  following  words,  found  among  her  last 
papers,  copied  by  her  hand,  tell  their  own  story : 

"  It  has  often  been  said  that  a  slow,  wasting  disease  of  the 
body  must  press  heavily  upon  the  soul,  which  sees  its  depart- 
ure from  the  friendly  world  step  by  step,  and  counts,  as  it 
were,  the  leaves  of  bloom  which  drop  one  after  another. 
When,  however,  no  distorting  pains  interfere,  and  when  the 
departing  one  does  not  love  too  much  that  which  is  called 
life,  nor  hate  too  much  that  which  is  called  death,  it  may  not 
be  so  bad  as  is  imagined.  If  we  drink  the  last  flask  of  a  noble 
wine  with  a  pleasure  which  we  did  not  know  before,  why  not 
also  these  last  drops  of  the  earthly  being?  In  thus  gliding 
quietly  downward  we  meet  with  few  of  the  cares  and  shocks 


256      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

of  this  lower  world;  we  have  little  more  to  do  than  to  pluck 
its  flowers ;  a  foretaste  of  the  disembodied  state  is  breathing 
around  us  ;  those  who  love  us  have  more  thought  and  more 
affection  for  the  departing  one;  and  those  who  do  not  love 
us  we  more  lightly  and  easily  pardon,  regardful  of  the  text, 
Forgive  as  we  would  be  forgiven,  as  well  as  mindful  of  the 
short  time  which  we  have  to  pilgrimage  together;  and  when 
a  tear  flows  from  the  eye,  it  flows  almost  as  visibly  as  seed- 
pearl  into  the  life  of  paradise.  Whoever  has  experienced  such 
gentle  suffering  will  not  deny  us  his  assent." 

Through  all,  thoughtfulness  for  her  father  never  failed. 
She  did  not  like  him  to  see  her  suffering,  and  had  for  him  still 
"  pleasant  looks,"  "  smiles,"  and  even  "  lively  conversation." 
Very  few  were  her  words  concerning  herself.  "  That  reticence, 
before  the  high  problems  of  being,  which  belongs  to  a  healthy 
nature,"  as  one  has  well  said,  was  hers  to  a  remarkable  de- 
gree. She  said  just  enough  to  show  that  she  knew  all,  and 
had  no  fears,  and  no  regrets  except  for  her  father.  Once  she 
said  to  him,  "  How  many  times  have  I  formed  schemes  of  the 
future,  when  I  was  to  take  care  of  you,  nurse  you,  amuse  you  ! 
How  many  thousand  little  comforts  I  have  planned  for  you  !" 
But  this  was  talk  which  neither  of  them  could  endure,  and  it 
was  never  repeated.  Toward  the  end  of  June  she  asked  to  be 
carried  to  the  window,  and  looked  out,  with  delight,  upon 
the  beauty  which  she  loved, — all  around  her.  "  Such  softness 
of  coloring !"  she  said;  "such  intermingling  of  shades!  such 
variety  of  green !" 

At  sunset  of  the  next  day,  a  perfect  day  in  June,  as  the 
breath  of  the  clover  and  the  roses  was  blowing  in  at  the  win- 
dows, with  perfect  composure  and  peace,  she  died. 

Even  now  the  house  was  not  quite  desolate :  the  influence 
of  her  cheerful,  triumphant  spirit  seemed  to  fill  the  places 
which  should  know  her  no  more  forever;  and,  after  a  very 
short  conflict  with  himself,  her  father  asked  his  clergyman  to 
give  thanks  "  that  she  had  been  spared  so  long."  Truly  it 
might  have  been  said  of  her, — 


WOMEN  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  257 

"God  sent  his  messenger  of  faith, 
And  whispered  in  the  maiden's  heart, 
Rise  up,  and  look  from  where  thou  art, 
And  scatter  with  unselfish  hands 
Thy  freshness  on  the  barren  sands 
And  solitudes  of  Death." 

It  has  been  impossible  to  do  justice  to  this  character  here. 
Time  and  material  for  anything  like  a  biography  have  both 
been  wanting ;  but  this  imperfect  sketch  will  perhaps  serve  as 
an  illustration,  in  one  family,  of  what  might  be  found  in  many 
others,  of  the  characteristic  traits  of  those  sensible,  strong, 
good  women  of  New  Hampshire  of  the  early  days,  under  the 
refining  influences  of  comfort  and  culture.  It  was  a  good 
stock  ;  and,  after  years  of  patient  growth  and  self-development 
in  obscure  places,  and  under  lowering  skies,  this  is  the  flower 
of  it  in  the  sunlight. 

Annie  Wilson  Fiske. 


17 


REBECCA    MOTTE. 


In  the  oldest  part  of  one  of  the  oldest  streets  of  Charleston 
stands  a  house  so  different  from  those  around  it,  so  exactly 
the  counterpart  of  an  old-fashioned  comfortable  English  home 
in  some  quiet  cathedral  town,  that  the  stranger  pauses  invol- 
untarily to  inquire  how  it  came  there,  and,  while  he  glances 
from  the  ivy-matted  brick  wall  that  shuts  off  the  garden  to 
a  wide-spreading  magnolia  at  the  gate  to  dispel  the  illusion 
of  his  being  on  English  ground,  is  nowise  surprised  to  learn 
that  this  house  dates  back  to  colonial  times,  and  that  the 
massive  stone-work  of  the  porch  and  windows,  nay,  even  the 
old  red  bricks  of  which  it  is  built,  were,  in  truth,  brought 
from  the  mother-country  more  than  a  century  ago.  The  very 
name  of  King  Street  recalls  this  loyalty  of  another  time  and 
rule. 

As  we  pass,  with  a  delightful  sense  of  roominess,  from  the 
flagged  space  in  front,  up  the  wide  granite  steps,  and  note  the 
solid  masonry,  our  thoughts  go  back  respectfully  to  the  days 
when  men  did  not  work  so  fast  as  in  this  our  day,  but  worked 
how  much  more  honestly,  how  much  more  faithfully!  Let 
us  go  through  the  long  stone-floored  passage  that  extends 
from  front  to  rear  of  the  house,  and  take  our  seats  in  the 
arched  piazza,  while  we  listen  to  the  story  which  the  whis- 
pering old  garden  and  the  echoing  walls  seem  ready  to  pour 
into  our  ears.  It  is  a  story  with  no  poetry  in  it  but  what  the 
realities  of  a  life  nobly  spent  must  always  yield;  and  if  time 
has  already  come  to  cast  an  illusive  veil  over  its  events,  here, 
at  least,  in  the  scene  where  much  of  it  was  passed,  we  may 
succeed  in  throwing  aside  the  deception,  and  may  see  for  our- 

259 


260      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

selves  whether  the  old  past  in  its  nakedness  is  not  even  fairer 
than  it  seems  through  far-off  mists. 

A  hundred  years  ago  this  house  had  become  the  property 
of  Mrs.  Rebecca  Motte,  and  here  she  lived  with  her  husband 
and  daughters.  Her  father,  Robert  Brewton,  an  Englishman 
of  good  family,  settled  in  Charleston  in  the  early  years  of  the 
last  century,  and,  marrying  Miss  Mary  Griffith,  became  the 
father  of  four  children,  the  youngest  of  whom  was  Rebecca, 
afterwards  Mrs.  Motte.  She  was  born  in  1738;  but  of  her 
earliest  years  we  know  little.  There  is  a  quaint  old  painting 
of  her  mother,  Mary  Griffith,  with  great,  soft,  liquid  eyes,  and 
auburn  hair;  a  peculiar  face,  the  gentle  tenderness  of  brow 
and  eye  contrasting  with  an  expression  of  strength  about 
the  mouth  and  decidedly  aquiline  nose;  just  the  face  for  a 
wise  and  loving  mother  who  would  know  well  how  to  train 
up  her  children  to  be  good  and  noble.  Under  such  maternal 
guidance  Rebecca  Brewton  grew  up,  developing  year  by  year 
the  special  gifts  and  graces  which  matured  in  after-life.  Even 
as  a  child  she  was  remarkable  for  a  certain  gentle  firmness 
of  character  which  never  forsook  her  in  the  most  trying 
moments  of  her  existence.  The  educational  advantages  of 
Charleston  at  that  time  were  not  great ;  but  the  most  was 
made  of  them  in  her  behalf,  and  the  seed,  falling  on  rich  soil, 
bore  good  fruit;  so  that  as  the  young  girl  approached  woman- 
hood she  was  noted  then,  as  ever  afterward,  for  her  charming 
refinement  of  tone  and  manner, — that  last  best  seal  of  good 
education.  Her  personal  appearance,  as  represented  in  one 
or  two  old  pictures  carefully  preserved,  corresponds  well  with 
the  description  we  have  of  her  character.  She  was  below  the 
medium  height,  but  with  a  bearing  so  full  of  sweet,  self-con- 
tained dignity  and  composure  that  her  want  of  size  never 
conveyed  the  faintest  idea  of  insignificance.  The  oval  face 
and  arched  eyebrows  almost  atoned  for  a  want  of  strict  regu- 
larity of  feature,  while  blond  curling  hair,  blue  eyes,  and 
bright  complexion  modified  an  expression  of  countenance 
that  without  them  would  have  been  almost  too  grave  and 
serious.     Looking  at  the  face  you  would  say  at  once  that 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  26l 

it  indicates  a  wonderful  earnestness  and  determination  of 
character,  full  of  force,  yet  entirely  removed  from  unfeminine 
boldness.  These  pictures  were  taken  of  her  in  youth.  Those 
who  remember  her  now — none  but  the  youngest  of  her 
many  grandchildren  and  their  contemporaries — recall  but 
the  shadow  of  all  this,  unlike  as  age  is  to  youth.  We,  with 
our  modern  eyes,  wonder  a  little,  gazing  on  the  likeness,  to 
see  how  unadorned  the  young  woman  is,  except  by  what  Dame 
Nature  gave  her.  The  dress,  it  is  true,  is  rich  ;  but  there  is 
no  other  ornament.  The  hair  is  drawn  completely  off  the 
forehead,  a  la  Chinoise,  and  curls  behind  only  because  it 
would  curl. 

As  we  realize  the  influences  under  which  Rebecca  Brewton 
grew  to  womanhood,  we  see  more  and  more  clearly  how  dif- 
ferent was  the  Charleston  of  her  day  from  the  town  we  are 
familiar  with.  The  building  of  a  city  was  not  then,  as  now, 
the  work  of  a  few  years.  South  Carolina  itself,  that  part  of 
it  at  least  which  was  inhabited  by  Europeans,  was  far  smaller 
than  we  find  it  now.  Looking  over  the  few  historical  records 
that  remain  of  Charleston  as  it  was  during  the  first  century 
after  its  foundation  at  Oyster  Point  in  1679,  we  see  how  great 
the  change  has  been  ;  for,  though  the  commercial  activity 
created  by  the  new  agriculture  was  all  centred  in  Charleston, 
the  limits  of  the  town  were  very  small,  and  the  best  and  most 
ornamental  part  of  it,  along  East  and  South  Battery,  did  not 
exist.  What  now  goes  by  the  name  of  White  Point  Garden 
was  nothing  but  a  marsh,  subject  to  the  constant  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide  in  Ashley  River.  The  people,  too,  although 
many  of  the  most  respectable  citizens  bore  the  same  names 
that  still  belong  to  prominent  families,  were  in  great  part 
European  by  birth,  English,  French,  and  Scotch,  with  all  the 
national  characteristics  of  the  countries  from  which  they  had 
so  recently  come.  The  American  type,  as  it  is  now  called, 
which  was  to  be  the  outgrowth  of  a  great  blending  of  various 
elements  acted  on  by  new  circumstances,  had  not  yet  come 
into  being  here, — if,  indeed,  anywhere,  at  that  time. 

This,  then,  was  the  atmosphere  in  which  Rebecca  Brewton 


262      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

developed  and  displayed  a  character  the  good  qualities  of 
which  are  happily  confined  to  no  time  or  place ;  yet  she  had 
surely  inherited,  with  her  full  English  blood,  what  we  are 
accustomed  to  look  upon  as  essentially  English  character- 
istics,— undaunted  firmness  under  trial,  and  cool  steadfastness 
of  purpose.  Association  with  a  large  and  attractive  circle  of 
companions  of  her  own  age,  of  whom  we  catch  occasional 
glimpses  in  such  sketches  of  the  time  as  are  to  be  found, 
must  have  told  strongly  on  one  so  formed  for  friendship  and 
its  influences.  Many  of  these  early  friends  and  acquaintances 
became  men  and  women  of  note  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution, 
showing  by  their  actions  then  how  admirable  they  must  always 
have  been. 

Hers  was  a  nature,  at  the  same  time,  too  thoughtful  not  to 
be  greatly  acted  on  by  what  was  passing  around  her  in  the 
political  colonial  world;  and  we  may  well  believe  that  the 
germ  of  that  patriotism  which  distinguished  her  even  among  a 
host  of  patriots  was  not  lying  dormant,  but  grew  and  expanded 
steadily  with  the  growth  and  expansion  of  liberal  ideas  in  the 
country  throughout  the  earlier  half  of  her  life  which  preceded 
the  great  struggle  for  liberty.  When  it  began,  the  enthusiasm 
of  girlhood  was  already  strengthened  in  her  by  the  ripe  judg- 
ment of  full  womanhood. 

But  to  return  to  where  we  left  her.  In  1758,  when  her 
school-days  had  not  very  long  been  left  behind,  Rebecca 
Brewton  was  married  to  Jacob  Motte,  the  eldest  son  of  a  large 
and  highly-respected  Huguenot  family.  De  La  Motte,  their 
progenitor,  had  been  forced  out  of  France  with  numbers  of 
his  countrymen  whom  the  Edict  of  Nantes  rendered  homeless 
in  the  year  1685.  He  took  refuge  in  Holland;  and  his  son 
John,  after  being  for  some  time  Dutch  consul  in  Dublin, 
crossed  the  water  and  settled  in  Charleston  in  1709.  It  was 
the  grandson  of  this  gentleman  who  wedded  Rebecca  Brew- 
ton.  Three  daughters  were  born  to  them,  but  no  son:  so 
that  with  this  pair  the  two  family  names  of  Motte  and  Brewton 
became  extinct,  or  are  found  only  linked  with  those  to  which 
the  various   remaining  female  branches  connected  them  by 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  263 

marriage.  The  years  that  followed  this  early  union  were 
quiet  but  not  unimportant  ones  in  the  life  of  our  heroine, 
made  happy  as  they  were  by  the  sweetest  and  most  engross- 
ing occupations  that  come  to  fill  a  woman's  lot.  Yet  they 
need  not  be  long  dwelt  on ;  for  we  can  easily  picture  them  to 
ourselves,  and  realize,  too,  how  each  of  them  in  passing  added 
further  maturity  of  thought  and  experience  and  interest  to 
one  whose  active  and  energetic  nature  was  capable  of  con- 
stant growth  and  improvement. 

One  incident  which  happened  in  the  early  years  of  her 
married  life  may  be  worth  mentioning,  bringing  her  into  rela- 
tion for  the  first  time,  as  it  does,  with  a  well-known  historical 
personage.  In  1762,  Admiral  Anson,  whose  fame  as  a  navi- 
gator had  been  acquired  a  good  many  years  previously  by  his 
voyage  around  the  world,  visited  Charleston  and  became  a 
guest  in  Mrs.  Motte's  house.  She  lived  at  that  time  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  town,  and  after  the  admiral's  visit  that  quarter 
went  for  a  long  time  by  the  name  of  Ansonborough.  When 
he  was  taking  leave  of  his  hostess  he  presented  her  with  a 
large  and  very  handsome  punch-bowl  of  India  china,  which 
had  traveled  round  the  world  with  him.  This  relic  of  the  old 
days,  a  beautiful  specimen  of  its  kind,  is  still  in  the  possession 
of  one  of  her  descendants,  being  originally  left  to  the  eldest 
grandchild. 

Quietly  and  peacefully  the  years  went  on,  with  only  occa- 
sional vague  mutterings  of  the  storm  which  was  approaching 
but  was  yet  unforeseen,  at  least  by  the  happy  household  over 
which  Mrs.  Motte  presided.  The  three  little  girls  passed  from 
babyhood  to  childhood ;  and  their  mother,  comparatively  at 
leisure  from  her  maternal  cares,  became  more  and  more  a 
favorite  in  the  society  in  which  she  moved,  not  only  admired 
for  the  sweet,  attractive  grace  which  made  her  hospitality 
charming,  but  beloved  for  her  active  benevolence  and  self- 
sacrificing  goodness  to  the  poor  and  afflicted. 

But  with  the  opening  of  hostilities  sorrow  and  trouble 
seemed  to  come  first  to  her  door.  In  1775  her  brother,  Miles 
Brewton,  whose  strongly  patriotic  sympathies  had  made  him 


264      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

an  ardent  promoter  of  the  cause  of  liberty,  sailed  from  Charles- 
ton for  England  with  all  his  family,  intending  to  leave  them 
with  relatives  there  and  return  to  the  post  of  duty.  But  the 
vessel  was  wrecked  on  its  outward  voyage,  and  not  one  pas- 
senger saved :  so  that  Mrs.  Motte  was  left  to  mourn  the  loss 
of  a  fondly-loved  and  only  brother.  A  constant  source  of 
anxiety,  too,  from  this  time,  was  the  condition  of  her  husband's 
health.  Mr.  Motte  lived  through  the  first  years  of  the  war, 
a  martyr  to  gout,  and  died  shortly  after  the  occupation  of 
Charleston  by  the  British.  When  the  war  broke  out,  his 
wife,  knowing  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  enter  the  ser- 
vice of  his  country,  and  lamenting  that  she  had  neither  hus- 
band nor  son  to  contribute  to  the  cause  that  was  so  dear  to 
her,  declared  she  must  do  what  she  could,  and  immediately 
ordered  down  to  the  city  her  entire  plantation  force,  that  they 
might  be  set  to  work  on  the  fortifications  which  were  to  be 
erected  for  its  defense  on  the  land-side.  Nor  did  she  content 
herself  with  this.  Through  the  long,  weary  years  that  fol- 
lowed, no  heart  went  out  more  freely  than  hers  in  sympathy 
for  the  suffering,  no  hand  was  more  busy  in  making  and  sup- 
plying clothing  and  necessaries  of  all  kinds  for  the  soldiers, 
as  far  as  her  opportunities  and  means  would  allow. 

After  Sir  Henry  Clinton's  failure  to  gain  possession  of 
Charleston  by  the  water-approach,  in  June,  1776,  the  enemy 
confined  their  operations  for  a  time  entirely  to  the  more 
northerly  portions  of  the  country,  and  during  the  next  two 
years  and  a  half  South  Carolina  escaped  the  calamities  of 
war  in  her  midst.  The  English  attempted,  it  is  true,  to  give 
trouble  by  inciting  the  Indians  to  fight;  but  vigorous  measures 
were  taken  for  their  suppression,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
months  all  resistance  on  their  part  came  to  an  end.  It  was 
not  till  the  winter  of  1779  that  General  Prevost  began  his 
march  from  Savannah  with  the  design  of  capturing  Charles- 
ton ;  and  this,  too,  ended  in  defeat  and  disappointment  to  the 
enemy,  for,  after  being  gallantly  repulsed  by  Count  Pulaski 
with  a  small  force,  they  did  not  long  persist  in  their  attempt, 
but,  fearing  the  speedy  arrival  of  reinforcements  for  the  town, 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  265 

fell  back  on  the  islands,  and  gradually  made  their  way  south- 
ward again. 

After  considerable  successes  in  Georgia,  however,  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  was  emboldened  to  make  a  third  attempt  on  Charles- 
ton. Slowly  and  cautiously  during  the  whole  of  the  winter 
of  1780  he  made  his  preparations  to  invest  the  town,  and  late 
in  the  spring  he  finally  brought  it  to  surrender. 

On  her  brother's  death  Mrs.  Motte  had  fallen  heir  to  his 
property,  and  this  old  King  Street  house,  built  by  him,  became 
her  home.  It  was  immediately  chosen  as  headquarters  when, 
in  the  month  of  May,  the  British  entered  the  town,  and  was 
occupied  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton  and  other  officers  until  the 
evacuation  at  the  end  of  1782.  Almost  every  room  in  the 
house  has  its  separate  story  relating  to  what  happened  in  it 
during  that  time.  On  the  marble  mantel-piece  in  one  may  be 
seen  a  caricature  of  the  English  general,  scratched  apparently 
with  a  diamond-point  on  the  hard  polished  surface,  and  with 
the  name  "  Sir  H.  Clinton"  appended  in  small  letters.  It  is 
only  visible  from  a  very  oblique  point  of  view  and  in  a  partic- 
ular light,  and  was  probably  drawn  by  some  lounging  aide- 
de-camp  in  a  moment  of  idleness  or  irritation.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  and  be  it  caricature  or  correct  likeness,  the  whole  pose 
and  air  and  cast  of  countenance  are  so  unmistakably  English, 
and  so  military  at  the  same  time,  that  a  glance  at  it  carries 
conviction  that  the  person  it  represents  was  veritably  present 
in  the  flesh  at  the  moment  it  was  taken. 

This  same  room  witnessed  the  fruitless  presentation  to 
Lord  Rawdon  of  the  petition  signed  by  the  patriot  women 
of  Charleston  for  the  pardon  of  the  unfortunate  Isaac  Hayne. 
Mrs.  Finley,  who  delivered  it,  was  a  relative  of  the  unhappy 
prisoner,  and  brought  with  her  his  two  little  children,  in  the 
hope  that  their  forlorn  and  pitiful  condition  would  melt  the 
heart  of  the  British  commander.  Long  years  afterward,  the 
son,  grown  to  manhood,  entered  the  room  again,  for  the  first 
time  since  that  bitter  day,  and  described  to  a  bystander  the 
scene  which  it  so  vividly  recalled  to  his  memory. 

In  a  room  opposite  this  one,  across  the  broad  stone-floored 


266       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

passage-way,  was  to  be  seen  in  those  days,  sunk  into  a  panel 
over  the  mantel-piece,  a  portrait  of  Miles  Brewton,  the  de- 
ceased brother  of  the  lady  of  the  house, — a  painting  of  no 
mean  merit,  for  it  was  by  the  hand  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 
But  that  did  not  avail  to  save  it  from  the  vandalism  of  the 
English  soldiery,  one  of  whom  struck  his  bayonet  through 
the  canvas,  by  way  of  insult  to  the  dead  rebel.  The  picture 
is  still  preserved,  and  the  rent  still  visible,  although  an  attempt 
has  been  made  to  conceal  the  injury  done  by  it. 

Let  us  go  into  yet  another  room,  teeming  even  more  than 
these  with  recollections  of  the  past.  This  was  the  only  room 
in  the  house  which  the  British  officers,  on  installing  them- 
selves, allowed  its  occupants  to  retain  for  their  own  use ;  and 
here  Mrs.  Motte,  her  daughters,  and  Mrs.  Brewton  (a  widowed 
cousin  of  the  family)  locked  themselves  in  during  the  first 
hours  of  confusion  and  disorder,  whilst  the  soldiers,  with 
clanking  swords  and  boisterous  talk,  were  pervading  every 
other  part  of  the  premises.  After  a  while  some  one  knocked 
at  the  door  ;  but  the  ladies  dared  not  open  it.  At  first  they 
would  make  no  answer  even ;  but  the  knock  was  repeated 
again  and  again,  with  the  half-whispered  assurance  that  it  was 
a  friend  who  asked  admittance.  At  length  a  black  finger  was 
thrust  through  the  keyhole,  to  convince  them  there  was  no 
reason  to  doubt  this  assertion ;  and  they  opened  the  door,  to 
find  outside  a  faithful  negro  servant,  who,  when  she  got  fairly 
in,  sank  on  the  floor,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  missis,  such  a  time, 
such  a  time  as  I  had  to  git  to  you  !"  Then  she  called  for  a 
pair  of  scissors,  and,  raising  her  skirt,  ripped  open  a  patch 
made  in  it  to  conceal  a  letter  which  had  been  intrusted  to 
her  care,  and  which,  with  great  difficulty,  she  had  succeeded 
in  bringing  through  the  enemy's  line,  and  thus  faithfully  de- 
livered. 

Throughout  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1780,  Mrs.  Motte 
continued  to  occupy  with  her  family  a  small  part  of  her  own 
house  in  Charleston.  She  would  gladly  have  taken  refuge  at 
her  country-place  on  the  Congaree  River,  to  which  the  enemy 
had    not    at   that  time  penetrated ;    but  her  husband's  con- 


REBECCA   MOTTE. 


267 


dition  of  health  precluded  the  possibility  of  such  a  move. 
The  disease,  which  terminated  his  life  early  in  the  following 
year,  was  making  rapid  progress ;  and  his  wife  nursed  him 
with  the  untiring  devotion  of  her  unselfish  nature.  Under 
these  trying  circumstances  her  calm  dignity  of  demeanor 
exacted  unfailing  respect  from  her  unbidden  guests.  Every 
day  she  presided  at  the  long  dinner-table,  which  was  laid  in 
the  big  drawing-room  and  always  crowded  with  officers. 
The  three  pretty  daughters  never  appeared  on  these  occa- 
sions. Meal-time  was  the  signal  for  them  to  steal  noiselessly 
and  dutifully  up  the  narrowest,  darkest,  and  most  crooked 
of  little  staircases  into  a  dingy  garret,  where  mamma  locked 
them  up  safe  from  the  eye  of  the  British  lion.  Not  for  worlds 
would  the  good  lady  have  suffered  a  daughter  of  hers  to  run 
the  risk  of  possible  flirtation  with  the  enemies  of  her  people. 
In  those  days  of  public  gloom  and  depression,  the  patriotic 
women  of  Charleston — the  Whig  ladies,  as  they  were  called — 
always  appeared  on  the  streets  dressed  in  deep  mourning. 
Some  of  them,  in  their  unavoidable  intercourse  with  the 
English,  made  good  use  of  the  well-known  woman's  weapon; 
and  among  the  most  prominent  in  this  kind  of  warfare  was 
the  Mrs.  Brewton  before  mentioned  as  a  connection  of  Mrs. 
Motte's.  She  bullied  the  officers  unmercifully,  and  so  much 
excited  their  ire  that  they  finally  exiled  her  to  Philadelphia. 
On  one  occasion,  when  she  had  recently  returned  from  the 
country,  an  officer  inquired  of  her  anxiously  how  things  were 
going  on  in  the  interior  of  the  State.  She  immediately  an- 
swered that  all  nature  smiled,  for  everything  was  Greene 
down  to  Monk's  Corner.  At  another  time  she  was  walking 
down  Broad  Street,  in  her  full  suit  of  black,  when  one  of  the 
garrison  joined  her;  and  just  at  that  moment  something 
caught  her  dress  and  a  part  of  it  was  torn  off:  she  took  up 
the  fragment  of  crape,  and,  passing  the  house  of  John  Rut- 
ledge,  occupied  at  that  time  by  the  English  Colonel  Moncrief, 
she  hung  the  symbol  of  mourning  on  the  railing  in  front,  ex- 
claiming, "  Where  are  you,  dear  Governor?  Let  your  house 
mourn  for  you,  as  your  friends  do !" 


268      WORTHY   WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

No  feeling  could  be  more  natural  than  the  honest  hatred 
which  many  women  of  the  Revolution  felt  toward  their  foes 
and  were  at  no  pains  to  conceal.  Yet  wherever  in  the  scant 
records  of  her  day  we  read  of  Mrs.  Motte's  relations  with 
English  soldiers,  there  we  read  also  of  her  quiet  courtesy  and 
unalterable  dignity  of  bearing  toward  them ;  in  the  same 
paragraphs  in  which  her  strong  and  unfaltering  patriotism  is 
insisted  on,  and  of  which,  indeed,  her  actions  give  highest 
evidence,  the  respect  and  even  attachment  she  inspired  them 
with  are  declared.  Nothing  excites  in  us  such  reverence  for 
her  liberal  and  high-minded  character  as  this  entire  freedom 
from  petty  feelings  of  personal  enmity  toward  those  who  had 
injured  her. 

But  to  return  to  the  summer  of  the  year  1780.  It  was  a  dis- 
astrous time  for  the  American  cause,  and  a  season  of  painful 
anxiety  in  Mrs.  Motte's  family.  The  eldest  daughter,  Eliza- 
beth, had  married,  a  year  previously,  Major — afterward 
General — Tom  Pinckney ;  but?  her  husband  being  constantly 
with  the  army,  she  continued  to  live  with  her  mother  for 
several  years  after  her  marriage.  When  the  battle  of  Camden 
took  place,  in  August,  1780,  Major  Pinckney  was  severely 
wounded.  The  excessively  hot  trying  weather  made  his 
chance  of  recovery  a  poor  one ;  but,  thanks,  it  was  said,  to  his 
own  placid  fortitude  as  well  as  to  his  wife's  unwearying  devo- 
tion in  nursing  him,  he  was  restored.  Many  years  after,  as 
he  was  passing  near  the  battle-field,  he  drove  with  his  chil- 
dren to  the  spot,  and  told  them  how,  as  he  lay  helpless  on  the 
ground  when  the  battle  was  over,  an  English  ammunition- 
wagon  happening  to  pass  near,  he  was  picked  up  and  con- 
veyed, at  his  own  request,  to  the  house  of  a  friend  in  the 
town.  As  the  wagon  jolted  along,  another  wounded  Amer- 
ican was  discovered,  and  lifted  to  a  place  at  his  side.  Not 
long  after,  they  came  upon  an  English  soldier  who  had  also 
received  a  wound ;  and  the  last  poor  wretch  was  immediately 
put  out  by  the  driver  and  his  companions  to  make  room  for 
their  own  countryman.  Major  Pinckney  besought  them  to 
have  pity  on  the  sufferer,  and  not  leave  him  behind  to  perish, 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  269 

but  was  roughly  answered,  "  Shut  up,  or  we'll  throw  you 
out !"  He  happened  to  have  on  a  pair  of  gold  buckles  at- 
tached to  the  knee-breeches  which  were  the  fashion  of  the 
day ;  and  the  soldiers,  eager  for  booty,  proceeded  to  rob  him 
of  them.  They  got  off  one,  and  were  about  disturbing  the 
wounded  leg  to  secure  the  other,  when  an  Irishwoman  be- 
longing to  the  camp  interfered,  and,  with  the  rough  humanity 
of  her  class,  swore  that  whoever  touched  the  shattered  leg 
should  feel  her  nails ;  and  therewith  she  displayed  a  set  of 
most  formidable  talons,  the  sight  of  which  effectually  turned 
the  villains  from  their  prey. 

Mr.  Motte  died  in  January,  178 1  ;  and  not  long  after  this 
sad  event  Mrs.  Motte  obtained  permission  to  leave  Charleston, 
and  retired  at  once  to  her  plantation  on  the  Congaree,  thirty 
or  forty  miles  from  Columbia.  The  house  was  a  large  and 
comfortable  one,  beautifully  situated  on  a  rising  ground, 
commanding  a  fine  view  of  the  river  and  the  surrounding 
country. 

Here  for  a  short  time  the  widow  and  her  daughters  re- 
mained in  undisturbed  seclusion.  But  the  situation  of  the 
place,  so  admirably  suited  for  defense,  soon  recommended  it 
to  the  English  as  a  proper  point  for  erecting  one  of  the  line 
of  military  stations  by  which  for  a  long  time  they  completely 
controlled  a  large  portion  of  the  State.  It  was  on  the  direct 
road  from  Charleston  to  Camden,  and  was  used  at  first  as  a 
stopping-place  in  conveying  supplies  of  all  kinds  to  various 
parts  of  the  interior.  At  length  the  British  threw  up  earth- 
works around  the  house,  which  went  by  the  name  of  Fort 
Motte ;  but  the  family  were  allowed  for  some  time  longer  to 
retain  the  use  of  a  few  rooms.  The  British  officers,  indeed, 
treated  the  mistress  of  the  house  with  much  deference,  and 
as  long  as  she  remained  in  the  fort  pretended,  at  least,  to  per- 
mit no  molestation  of  her  personal  property.  It  is  even  said 
that  a  civil  and  formal  request  was  invariably  sent  to  her  by  the 
commanding  officer  for  leave  to  appropriate  to  the  use  of  the 
garrison  each  separate  pair  of  fowls  that  was  abstracted  from 
her  poultry-yard.    Yet  their  conscientious  scruples  apparently 


270 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


did  not  extend  beyond  the  hen-coops;  for  it  is  very  certain  that 
their  presence  entailed  far  more  serious  losses  on  Mrs.  Motte. 
A  letter  from  Colonel  Tarleton,  still  extant,  refers  to  the  fact 
that  some  of  the  soldiers  had  taken  off  her  horses,  but  de- 
clares his  willingness  to  return  them.  Long  afterward  he 
was  made  to  suffer  for  at  least  conniving  at  this  act.  General 
Thomas  Pinckney,  when  Minister  from  the  United  States  to 
England,  happened  to  meet  Tarleton,  and  was  introduced  to 
him  as  the  son-in-law  of  Mrs.  Motte,  "  whose  horses,"  added  the 
introducer,  "  you  know,  you  stole  when  you  were  in  Carolina." 
The  American  troops  having  succeeded  in  capturing  one 
of  the  enemy's  posts  nearest  to  Fort  Motte,  Major  Mc- 
Pherson,  the  British  officer  in  command,  afraid,  perhaps,  to 
harbor  so  declared  an  enemy,  desired  Mrs.  Motte  to  remain 
no  longer  in  his  camp.  She  therefore  betook  herself,  with 
her  family,  to  a  small  house  within  the  limits  of  the  planta- 
tion. It  was  a  rough  structure,  weather-boarded,  but  only 
partially  lined,  with  no  attempt  at  plastering.  The  ladies, 
knowing  that  they  would  be  subjected  to  marauding  parties 
of  the  English,  were  at  first  at  a  loss  where  to  conceal  such 
valuables  as  they  had  brought  with  them  from  Fort  Motte. 
It  was  impossible  even  to  bury  their  silver  without  the  ser- 
vants knowing  of  it;  and  Mrs.  Motte  wisely  decided  against 
putting  their  fidelity  to  any  unnecessary  test.  At  length  some 
one  suggested  that  the  unfinished  state  of  the  walls  of  their 
sitting-room  afforded  a  convenient  hiding-place ;  and  they  set 
to  work  to  avail  themselves  of  it.  Nailing  tacks  in  the 
vacancy  between  the  outer  and  inner  boarding,  and  tying 
strings  around  the  various  pieces  of  silver,  they  hung  them 
along  the  inner  wall.  Shortly  afterwards  a  band  of  marauders 
did  actually  invade  the  premises ;  and  one  more  audacious 
than  the  others  jumped  on  a  chair  and  thrust  his  bayonet 
into  the  hollow  wall,  saying  he  would  soon  find  what  they 
had  come  in  search  of;  but,  rapping  all  along  on  the  floor 
within  the  wall,  he  did  not  once  strike  against  anything  to 
reward  his  bad  perseverance.  A  quaint  little  sugar-dish  of 
highly-wrought  English  silver  is  still  shown  by  a  great-grand- 


REBECCA   MOTTE. 


271 


daughter  of  Mrs.  Motte's,  as  one  of  the  relics  preserved  by 
her  ingenuity. 

The  American  troops,  under  Marion  and  Lee,  advanced 
rapidly  to  the  siege  of  Fort  Motte,  and  were  joyfully  received 
and  hospitably  entertained  by  Mrs.  Motte  in  her  new  quarters. 
Meantime  a  reinforcement  of  the  enemy  were  reported  to  be 
on  the  way  to  relieve  Major  McPherson,  and,  that  object  once 
effected,  there  would  be  no  further  thought  of  surrendering 
the  fort.  The  siege  had  lasted  several  days,  and  there  re- 
mained but  one  way  of  ending  it  speedily  and  successfully. 
It  occurred  to  General  Marion  that  by  firing  the  roof  of  the 
house  which  served  at  once  as  headquarters  and  centre  of  the 
British  fortification  this  end  might  be  attained ;  and,  with  many 
regrets  at  the  military  necessity  for  destroying  the  home  and 
valuable  property  of  his  kind  hostess,  Light-Horse  Harry 
Lee  told  her  of  his  design.  Curiously  enough,  on  the  day 
that  the  family  were  ordered  out  of  Fort  Motte,  one  of  them, 
as  she  left  the  house,  picked  up  and  carried  off  for  safe  keep- 
ing a  small  quiver  of  arrows  which  had  many  years  before 
been  presented  to  Mr.  Miles  Brewton  by  a  captain  who  had 
brought  them  from  the  East  Indies,  and  who  declared  that 
they  would  set  on  fire  any  wooden  substance  against  which 
they  struck.  It  is  also  said  that  they  were  poisoned,  and 
that  a  British  officer  handling  one  incautiously  was  warned 
of  the  fact.  Be  this  as  it  may,  these  arrows  deserve  a  place 
in  history.  Mrs.  Motte's  reply  to  Colonel  Lee's  proposal  was 
characteristic.  "  Do  not  hesitate  a  moment,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  give  you  something  to  facilitate  the  destruction."  And 
then  she  went  in  search  of  the  three  East  India  arrows. 
There  was  no  bow :  so  they  were  shot  from  a  gun.  With  in- 
tense excitement  the  flight  of  the  first  was  watched.  It  fell 
quietly  and  harmlessly.  The  second  had  no  more  effect. 
Then  some  one  suggested  that  they  should  wait  until  later  in 
the  day,  when  the  roof  had  been  well  dried  by  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  At  length,  about  midday,  the  third  and  last  arrow  was 
dispatched,  and  in  a  little  while  a  thin  curl  of  smoke  rising 
from  the  shingles  told  the  watchers  that  it  had  well  done  its 


272 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


work.  The  garrison  soon  discovered  their  new  danger,  and 
made  vigorous  efforts  to  extinguish  the  flames,  so  that  it  be- 
came necessary  for  the  besiegers  to  direct  the  fire  of  their 
guns  on  the  point  where  the  staircase  gave  access  to  the  roof. 
In  a  short  time  a  white  flag  took  the  place  of  the  British 
colors,  and  Fort  Motte  fell  into  the  hands  of  its  wily  besiegers. 
It  was  not  too  late  to  save  the  house  even  then ;  and  the 
American  soldiers  showed  their  appreciation  of  the  patriotic 
spirit  of  their  countrywoman  by  making  the  most  strenuous 
exertions  to  save  her  property,  so  that  only  thk  roof  was 
consumed.  Seven  years  later,  however,  an  unfortunate  acci- 
dent burnt  the  house  to  the  ground. 

The  quiver,  emptied  of  its  fateful  arrows,  but  ever  after  kept 
with  laudable  sentiment,  hung  in  Mrs.  Motte's  parlor,  holding 
no  longer  weapons  of  any  kind  but  harmless  knitting-needles. 
Whenever,  in  after-time,  Mrs.  Motte's  part  in  the  surrender 
of  the  fort  was  alluded  to  in  her  presence,  she  would  say, 
simply,  "Too  much  has  been  made  of  a  thing  that  any  Ameri- 
can woman  would  have  done." 

The  day  after  the  surrender  she  entertained  the  British  and 
American  officers  at  the  same  table,  and  won  golden  opinions 
from  them  all.  Years  afterward  she  received  a  pleasant  token 
of  the  esteem  in  which  she  was  held  by  those  of  the  enemy 
who  learned  to  know  her.  An  English  officer  to  whom  she 
had  extended  some  kindness  happened  to  see  in  a  book-stall 
in  London  a  Bible  and  prayer-book  which  had  been  presented 
by  Mrs.  Motte  to  the  old  Episcopal  church  on  the  Santee. 
Her  name  and  this  fact  were  inscribed  on  the  books,  which 
had  doubtless  been  carried  off  by  some  sacrilegious  thieves 
who  despoiled  the  church  during  the  war.  The  officer  im- 
mediately bought  the  books,  and  sent  them  once  more  across 
the  water  to  the  original  giver. 

The  prayer-book  was,  of  course,  laid  aside,  as  unsuited  to 
the  new  order  of  things;  but  the  old  Bible  is  still  read  in  the 
queer  little  brick  church  where  Mrs.  Motte  worshiped  during 
many  years  of  her  long  life. 

After  the  taking  of  Fort  Motte  the  tide  of  war  gradually 


REBECCA   MOTTE. 


273 


turned,  and  success  declared  at  last  on  the  side  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. But  it  was  not  till  December,  1782,  that  the  incubus 
of  British  occupation  was  finally  removed  from  Charleston. 

When  the  war  at  length  ended,  Mrs.  Motte's  large  estate 
had  become  much  incumbered  by  debt,  incurred  principally 
on  behalf  of  various  friends  of  the  family;  and  with  character- 
istic energy  and  determination  she  set  herself  the  task  of 
managing  and,  if  possible,  clearing  the  property  of  this  heavy 
burden.  She  built  a  large  and  handsome  house  on  her  Santee 
lands,  and  there  she  lived  for  some  years  through  autumn, 
winter,  and  spring,  repairing  in  the  sickly  summer  season  to 
Murphy's  Island,  a  small  strip  of  land  where  the  Santee  falls 
into  the  ocean,  some  miles  below  her  winter  residence. 

This  whole  Santee  neighborhood  is  full  of  stories  and  recol- 
lections of  the  days  of  the  Revolution.  One  of  the  most 
picturesque  old  places  on  the  river  was  owned  at  that  time  by 
Mrs.  Horry,  the  sister  of  Charles  and  Thomas  Pinckney,  and 
a  great  friend  of  Mrs.  Motte.  On  one  occasion  General 
Marion,  when  hard  pressed  by  the  British,  sought  refuge  in 
her  house.  But  he  had  not  been  there  long  when  the  good 
lady,  who  had  gone  to  prepare  dinner  for  him,  rushed  in,  cry- 
ing, "  Fly  for  your  life,  general !  The  red-coats  are  upon 
you."  Marion  had  taken  the  precaution  of  hitching  his  horse 
by  the  river-side;  and  the  spot  is  still  shown  where  he  leaped 
into  his  saddle  and  swam  across  stream  to  an  island  in  the 
broad  Santee,  out  of  reach  of  his  pursuers. 

All  the  stories  are  not  equally  dramatic.  Another,  which 
has  a  strong  touch  of  the  burlesque,  attaches  itself  to  the 
Pinckney  place,  situated  a  little  farther  down  the  river.  It 
tells  of  a  certain  Colonel  or  Major  Pendleton,  who  was  carefully 
wrapped  up  for  concealment  in  a  roll  of  carpets  in  the  garret. 
The  Britishers  searched  the  house  from  loft  to  basement,  and 
found  no  trace  of  their  game.  But  Colonel  Pendleton  had 
one  incurable  weakness  :  it  was  for  turkey-giblets  ;  and  when 
from  his  hiding-place  he,  in  an  evil  hour,  overheard  the  cook 
killing  a  turkey  in  preparation  for  dinner,  he  lost  all  prudence 
in  his  desire  for  this  favorite  dish,  and  called  out  from  the 

18 


274 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


window,  "Save  the  giblets  for  me!"  The  soldiers  caught  his 
words,  flew  immediately  up-stairs,  and  bore  off  their  prisoner 
in  triumph. 

The  Santee  church,  of  which  mention  has  been  made,  was 
built  in  great  part  by  the  liberality  of  Jacob  Motte;  and  a 
document  is  still  to  be  seen  assigning  one  of  the  pews  to  him 
in  recognition  of  this.  The  old-fashioned  church  stands  by 
the  road  amidst  the  great  pine  forest  that  extends  for  many 
miles  southward  from  the  banks  of  the  Santee.  There  is  still 
to  be  found  in  the  uninclosed  church-yard  a  grave  which, 
with  its  warning  inscription,  must  have  been  familiar  to  the 
eyes  of  Revolutionary  generations.  It  is  said  to  be  the  rest- 
ing-place of  a  carpenter  who  fell  from  the  roof  of  the  church 
while  it  was  being  built.  It  is  marked  by  a  cypress  head- 
board so  old  and  weather-beaten  that  the  letters  long  ago 
marked  on  it  are  rendered  legible  now  by  being  raised  from 
the  surrounding  wood,  which,  left  unpainted,  has  been  more 
rapidly  worn  by  the  constant  action  of  sun  and  rain.  The 
words  run, — 

"  Stranger  who  now  are  passing  by, 
As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I; 
As  I  am  now,  so  shall  yon  be : 
Therefore  prepare  to  follow  me." 

There  is  perhaps  no  private  sphere  of  life  affording  a  wider 
field  for  the  constant  exercise  of  all  the  Christian  and  humane 
virtues  than  a  large  Southern  plantation ;  and  here,  more  even 
than  in  the  other  scenes  of  life,  Mrs.  Motte's  peculiar  excel- 
lences shone  forth  in  all  their  brightness.  Here  her  liberality 
displayed  itself  in  unfailing  attention  to  the  comfort  of  those 
dependent  on  her.  In  sickness  her  place  was  ever  at  the 
bedside,  carrying  out  the  doctor's  directions  herself,  and  con- 
tributing her  own  experience  and  rare  good  judgment  to  alle- 
viate suffering  and  hasten  recovery.  "  I  well  remember,"  says 
one  of  her  great-grandchildren,  speaking  of  Mrs.  Motte's  plan- 
tation-life, "the  gifts  at  Christmas,  when  old  and  young,  even 
babies,  would  come  up  to  the  house  to  wish  Old  Mistress  a 
merry  Christmas,  and  none  returned  empty-handed  to  their 


REBECCA   MOTTE. 


275 


dances  and  merry-making  for  three  days."  The  place  she 
held  in  the  affection  of  her  negroes  was  shown  for  many  and 
many  a  year  after  her  death  by  the  pride  with  which  the  old 
men  and  women  would  boast  that  they  had  belonged  to  and 
well  remembered  the  dear  old  Missis.  Her  relations  with  all 
classes  of  her  inferiors  were  ever  most  kindly;  and  the  wide 
charity  which  was  her  most  prominent  trait  gained  her  un- 
bounded influence  with  them,  which  was  always  judiciously 
exercised. 

She  was  entirely  successful,  not  only  in  paying  off  the 
debts  of  her  husband's  estate,  but  in  improving  it  for  the  ben- 
efit of  her  children.  The  two  younger  daughters  married  re- 
spectively Mr.  John  Middleton  and  Colonel  William  Alston ; 
and  in  the  course  of  years  the  house  in  King  Street  grew  merry 
again  with  the  voices  of  numerous  grandchildren,  the  youngest 
of  whom  still  graces  the  old  home  with  her  sweet  presence. 

There  are  now  living  more  than  a  hundred  descendants  of 
Mrs.  Motte,  belonging  to  the  most  respectable  families  of 
Carolina. 

That  Mrs.  Motte  had  great  practical  capacity  may  be  in- 
ferred from  her  management  of  her  affairs.  Until  within  a  few 
years  her  business  correspondence  was  extant,  bearing  witness 
to  her  unusual  administrative  powers ;  but  it  perished  with 
most  of  the  family  records  and  heirlooms.  A  few  letters 
written  in  her  old  age  to  one  of  her  daughters  remain,  and 
give  evidence  in  every  line  of  her  tender  thoughtfulness  of 
others,  her  active  interest  in  what  concerned  the  welfare 
of  her  friends  and  neighbors,  and  the  energy  with  which  she 
still  attended  to  her  daily  duties.  As  we  reverently  turn  the 
old,  embrowned  pages,  the  simple  beauty  of  the  unselfish  life 
they  bear  witness  to  strikes  us  more  and  more  forcibly. 

"Saturday,  September  10th,  1S06. 

"  I  received  your  letter,  my  dear  Child,  by  Scipio,  on  Wed- 
nesday last,  with  the  Shawl,  which  is  very  handsome,  and  I 
shall  wear  it  for  your  sake ;  pray  don't  work  any  more  cap 
cauls,  for  I  have  enough  by  me.     I  send  by  Scipio  two  pairs 


276      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

of  socks  for  Mr.  Alston,*  and  will  send  the  others  when  done: 
pray  when  you  write  let  me  know  if  they  fit  him.  .  .  .  Tell 
B.f  I  am  sorry  to  hear  she  is  so  lazy  and  indolent ;  you  must 
let  her  come  and  stay  with  me  the  winter,  and  I  will  endeavor 
to  make  her  more  active :  I  expect  to  be  a  good  deal  alone. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  you  all  keep  well.  I  hope  it  may  continue. 
Kiss  your  little  girls  for  me,  and  tell  them  I  have  nothing  to 
send  them  on  this  Island ;  but  when  I  go  to  town  I  will  send 
them  some  goodies  by  a  schooner." 

"  I  was  rejoiced,  my  dear  Child,  to  hear  by  Flora  you  were 
all  well.  I  hope  Mr.  Alston  is  quite  recovered.  Don't  dis- 
tress yourself  about  not  coming  to  see  me.  I  did  not  expect 
it ;  for  from  all  the  sickness  you  have  had  in  your  family  this 
summer,  and  the  removal  from  the  sea-shore  to  Clifton,  and 
the  loss  of  your  house,  and  the  confusion  it  must  have  thrown 
you  in,  it  was  impossible  for  you  to  leave  home.  Therefore, 
my  dear  Child,  I  did  not  expect  it.  But  whenever  Mr.  Alston 
goes  to  town  you  can  then  come.  But  I  think  you  must  want 
to  go  to  town  yourself  to  get  some  necessaries  after  your 
loss.  Now,  my  dear,  I  would  have  you  go  to  town  with  Mr. 
Alston,  and  leave  the  girls  with  me  until  your  return.  I  am 
very  sorry  to  hear  poor  old  Bess|  is  so  ill:  she  will  be  a  great 
loss  to  you.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Horry's  family  are  all  at  Hampton,  and 
well ;  she  desires  her  love  to  you.  They  dined  with  us  on 
Christmas  day :  sixteen  sat  down  to  dinner.  My  love  to  M. 
and  C.  and  B.  and  the  dear  little  girls  and  boys.  ...  I  send 
a  few  hops,  and  am  sorry  I  have  no  more :  the  rains  have 
destroyed  all  ours  and  Mrs.  Horry's." 

"El  Dorado,§  1S06. 

"  Now  I  have  told  you  all  the  news  I  know  of,  I  will  inform 
you  about  my  crop.  I  have  a  better  prospect  of  a  good  crop 
than  I  ever  had ;  there  were  more  pains  taken  in  planting : 

*  Her  son-in-law. 

f  A  granddaughter  who  grew  up  to  be  remarkable  for  energy  and  diligence 
as  well  as  amiability. 

%  An  old  slave.  \  The  plantation. 


REBECCA   MOTTE. 


277 


all  my  seed-rice  was  hand-picked ;  and  if  rice  is  but  a  good 
price  next  year  I  shall  pay  all  my  debts,  I  hope.  Five  large 
ships  arrived  yesterday  and  to-day.  I  have  not  heard  where 
they  came  from.  .  .  .  My  love  to  M.  and  C.  and  my  dear  B. 
I  hope  when  I  see  her  next  I  shall  find  her  much  improved, 
and  all  the  dear  boys.  Kiss  L.  and  H.  for  me,  and  am  your 
affectionate 

"  Mother, 

"  R.  MOTTE." 

We  have  glanced  at  the  picture  of  Rebecca  Motte  in  her 
youth.  Here  is  a  sketch  of  her  as  she  appeared  in  age  to  the 
eyes  of  a  far  younger  generation.  It  is  penned  by  one  of  her 
great-grandchildren,  to  whom  she  was  always  the  impersona- 
tion of  indulgent  motherly  kindness  and  love.  "  She  was 
rather  under-sized  and  slender,  with  a  pale  face,  blue  eyes,  and 
gray  hair  that  curled  slightly  under  a  high-crowned  ruffled 
mob-cap.  She  always  wore  a  square  white  neckerchief  pinned 
down  in  front,  tight  sleeves  reaching  only  to  the  elbow,  with 
black  silk  mittens  on  her  hands  and  arms  ;  a  full  skirt  with 
huge  pockets,  and  at  her  waist  a  silver  chain,  from  which 
hung  her  pin-cushion  and  scissors  and  a  peculiarly  bright 
bunch  of  keys." 

Respected  and  beloved  by  all  around  her,  thus  she  lived  on 
through  the  gathering  years,  whose  weight  she  hardly  seemed 
to  feel,  so  bright  and  strong  her  mind  continued,  so  sweet 
and  loving  her  temper,  so  firm  her  bodily  health. 

A  character  like  hers,  so  made  up  of  all  good  things,  and 
in  which  whatever  flaws  originally  existed  were  so  overlaid  by 
prominent  virtues  as  to  be  invisible,  will  appear  to  many  un- 
natural. Others,  more  happy  in  their  experience  of  human- 
ity, and  whom  personal  acquaintance  with  natures  rare  as 
hers  has  convinced  of  their  existence,  look  trustfully  to  them 
in  hours  of  depression,  despondency,  and  darkness,  as  the  one 
shining  link  left  always  visible  that  connects  our  poor  sad 
earth  with  heaven. 

Rebecca   Motte  was  laid  to   rest  in  the  old  St.  Philip's 


2; 8      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Church,  which  was  burnt  many  years  ago,  but  which  occupied 
the  site  on  which  the  present  church  of  that  name  stands. 
A  slab  with  the  following  inscription  was  placed  in  honor 
of  her : 

SACRED   TO   THE   MEMORY   OF   REBECCA   MOTTE. 

IN    HER    THE    MEEKNESS   AND    FERVENT   PIETY    OF   THE    CHRISTIAN, 

THE   MOST   BENEVOLENT    OF    HUMAN    HEARTS, 

AND   THE   MOST   HUMBLE   AND   UNOBTRUSIVE    DEMEANOR, 

WERE  HAPPILY  BLENDED  WITH  THE  FIRM   PATRIOTISM 

OF   THE   SPARTAN   MATRON. 

************* 

THE   TEARS   OF   THE   INDIGENT,  TO   WHOM   SHE   ACTED   AS   A   SISTER, 

TESTIFY    HER   UNBOUNDED   CHARITY. 

THE   UNFEIGNED   SORROW   OF   THE   CIRCLE   IN   WHICH    SHE   MOVED, 

AND  OF   WHICH    SHE   WAS   THE  ORNAMENT 

AND   THE   DELIGHT,  PROCLAIM    HOW   AMIABLE  AND   UNASSUMING 

WERE   HER    SOCIAL   TALENTS; 

AND    HER    BEREAVED  AND  DISCONSOLATE   CHILDREN 

DEDICATE  THIS   MARBLE   TO   COMMEMORATE   THE   EXCELLENCE 

OF   THE   DOMESTIC   CHARACTER    OF   THEIR    PARENT. 

Those  who  have  followed  her  story  as  far  as  it  has  been 
possible  to  give  its  outline  in  these  brief  pages  will  hardly 
question  the  merited  genuineness  of  this  tender  praise.  But 
far  more  enduring  than  this  monument  to  her  worth  has 
proved  is  the  loving  and  proud  reverence  in  which  her 
memory  is  held  by  her  many  grandchildren  and  their  chil- 
dren, some  of  whom  still  have  their  home  in  the  old  house 
and  beautiful  garden  which  Time  and  her  name  have  done  so 
much  to  render  venerable. 


DEBORAH    LOGAN, 

THE   QUAKER   LADY. 

To  all  conversant  with  the  early  history  of  Pennsylvania 
the  names  of  Norris  and  Logan  are  well  known.  The  founder 
of  the  former  family  came  as  a  lad  to  this  country  from  Ja- 
maica in  1690,  whither  his  father  had  immigrated  from  the 
Isle  of  Wight.  Returning  to  the  West  Indies  after  two  years' 
absence,  Isaac  Norris  found  that  his  home  and  family  had 
been  engulfed  by  the  memorable  earthquake  which  destroyed 
Port  Royal :  the  vessel  which  bore  him  out  actually  sailed 
over  the  site  of  his  father's  house.  He  gathered  together  the 
remnants  of  his  fortune,  and,  wi£h  hardly  more  than  a  hun- 
dred pounds  sterling,  came  back  to  America,  being  then  about 
twenty-one.  This  terrible  beginning  of  life  was  followed  by 
nearly  half  a  century  of  unbroken  prosperity.  He  married  a 
daughter  of  Governor  Lloyd,  of  Pennsylvania,  by  whom  he 
had  fourteen  children.  He  had  the  happiness  of  revisiting 
his  birthplace  and  friends  in  England ;  he  made  a  beautiful 
home  for  himself  near  Philadelphia,  on  a  fine  estate,  which  he 
called  Fairhill;  he  filled  a  number  of  important  public  posi- 
tions with  distinction,  among  which  were  those  of  member  of 
the  Council,  Speaker  of  the  Assembly,  and  Chief  Justice  of  the 
State,  until  death  overtook  him  in  the  Friends'  Meeting-House 
in  Germantown,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  What  a 
singular  career,  so  stripped  at  its  outset,  so  successful,  so  full 
of  honors  at  its  close !  He  comes  before  us  with  the  awful 
catastrophe  at  Jamaica,  and  passes  calmly  out  of  sight  from 
the  house  of  God  on  a  summer  Sabbath  morning,  June  4,  1735. 
When  the  sudden  stroke  fell,  he  was  carried  at  once  to  Stenton, 
the  seat  of  his  friend  James  Logan,  which  was  nearer  than 

279 


280     WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Fairhill,  in  the  vain  hope  of  restoring  him ;  and  thus  in  this 
final  scene  the  ancestors  of  our  heroine  and  her  husband  ap- 
pear together  under  the  roof  which  in  course  of  time  was  to 
be  hers. 

James  Logan's  early  life  had  not  been  without  vicissitudes. 
His  father,  destined  for  the  Church  of  England,  became  a 
Quaker,  and  relinquished  his  profession  and  country  for  the 
sake  of  religious  independence.  He  settled  in  Ireland,  but 
was  forced  to  leave  it  by  the  war  of  1689,  his  family  following 
him  in  his  wanderings,  first  to  Scotland,  then  to  England. 
His  son  James  was  about  twenty-five  when  William  Penn  was 
attracted  by  his  ability  and  acquirements  and  proposed  taking 
the  young  man  to  America  as  his  private  secretary.  Logan's 
family  opposed  his  accepting  this  offer,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  sail  without  their  consent,  which  he  did  in  September, 
1699.  His  character  and  intelligence  soon  won  the  entire 
confidence  of  Penn,  who  on  his  return  to  England,  two  years 
after  their  arrival  in  America,  left  Logan  secretary  of  the  prov- 
ince. As  years  went  on,  he  filled  other  high  posts,  including 
that  of  President  of  the  Council,  and,  like  his  friend  Isaac 
Norris,  died  Chief  Justice  of  Pennsylvania,  October  31,  175 1, 
having  reached  the  age  of  seventy-seven  with  undiminished 
mental  powers,  although  his  bodily  strength  and  health  had 
suffered  during  his  latter  years  from  a  severe  fall  he  had  got 
in  riding.  Learning  and  philanthropy  had  a  large  share  in 
this  life  which  was  so  filled  besides  with  cares  of  business  and 
state  :  his  house  was  the  resort  of  men  of  letters  and  science ; 
his  correspondents  at  home  and  abroad  were  those  of  the 
same  pursuits ;  in  days  when  books  were  rare  and  dear, 
brought  with  trouble  and  cost  from  the  Old  World,  he  collected 
a  noble  library,  which  he  bequeathed  to  his  townsfolk,  who 
had  shortly  before  made  their  first  public  attempt  in  that  di- 
rection. In  the  following  generation  a  member  of  the  family 
enriched  the  Philadelphia  and  Loganian  Library  by  a  dona- 
tion of  two  thousand  volumes:  yet  still  books  gathered  at 
Stenton.  Like  Penn,  he  was  the  friend  and  protector  of  the 
Indians,  who  sometimes  paid  him  visits  of  several  weeks  at  a 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  28 1 

time,  encamping  round  his  house  three  and   four   hundred 
strong. 

Such  were  the  commencements  of  the  Norris  and  Logan 
families  in  this  country,  where  by  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury they  had  taken  firm  root  and  thrown  out  numerous  off- 
shoots.    Deborah,  the  subject  of  our  memoir,  was  the  second 
child  and  only  daughter  of  Charles,  a  younger  son  of  Isaac 
Norris,  Jr.,  and  Mary  Parker,  of  Chester,  Delaware  County, 
whose  parents  had  come  over  from  Yorkshire  early  in  the 
eighteenth  century.     Charles  Norris  had  built  a  fine  residence 
in   Chestnut  Street  below  Fifth,  on  the  site  of  the  present 
custom-house.     It  was  more  like  a  villa  than  a  town-house, 
with  tiers  of  piazzas   and   a  beautiful   garden.     There   were 
greenhouses  and  hothouses,  among  the  products   of  which, 
most   unusual   for  that   day,   were   pineapples.     The   garden 
reached  to  Fifth  Street,  and  the  State-house  grounds  extended, 
as  now,  along  the  opposite  side.     Beyond,  on  the  same  side  of 
the  way,  there  were  but  two  buildings,  both  of  wood.     It  was 
the  western  extremity  of  town.     In  our  day,  when  the  city 
west  of  the  Schuylkill  is  almost  thrice  as  populous  as  that 
west  of  the  Delaware  was  then,  it  is  hard  to  form  an  idea  of 
the  Philadelphia  of  Deborah  Norris's  childhood.     There  is  a 
curious  old  wood-cut  in  the  National  Museum  at  Independence 
Hall,  showing  a  mere  strip  of  houses  along  the  river's  edge, 
backed  by  densely-wooded  hills,  with  a  little  fort,  whence 
flies  the  British  flag  in  one  corner. 

Deborah  was  born  October  19,  1761,  in  the  fine  house  at 
Fifth  and  Chestnut  Streets.  She  lost  her  father  when  she 
was  between  four  and  five  years  old,  and  the  charge  of  her 
and  three  brothers  (all  four  born  between  July,  1760,  and 
July,  1765)  devolved  upon  her  mother.  Whatever  the  quali- 
ties and  merits  of  Charles  Norris  may  have  been,  it  is  certain 
that  his  daughter  inherited  much  of  her  strong,  well-balanced 
nature  and  studious  turn  from  her  mother.  She  grew  towards 
girlhood  amid  the  thickening  troubles  of  the  country,  of  which 
Philadelphia  was  the  centre.  She  was  early  used  to  meeting 
all  sorts  of  people.     At  her  mother's  house  she  saw  many 


282       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

members  of  that  Congress  whose  roll  is  the  American  peerage. 
John  Hancock,  Henry  Laurens,  of  South  Carolina,  a  brilliant, 
striking  man,  and  others  hardly  less  distinguished,  were  drawn 
to  the  Quaker  widow's  fireside  by  the  lively  common  sense 
of  her  talk.  At  Fairhill,  too,  where  her  Norris  cousins  lived, 
she  met  most  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, and  in  after-life  jotted  down  some  fragmentary  recollec- 
tions of  them.  Francis  Lightfoot  Lee  made  a  lasting  impres- 
sion upon  her  by  his  "  Roman  physiognomy."  She  was 
rather  hard  upon  John  Penn,  who  struck  her  as  an  insignifi- 
cant person  whose  decisive  steps  were  the  result  of  the  press- 
ure of  circumstances,  not  of  natural  force  :  "  he  seemed  to  me 
a  very  foolish  person  ;"  but  she  adds,  "  he  used  to  pretend 
to  be  an  admirer  of  mine.  He  was  very  homely,  and  wore  a 
tie-wig.  Now,  my  little  tittering  hussies,  you  all  laugh  at 
your  great-grandmother's  admirer  in  his  tie-wig !"  A  touch 
of  girlish  disdain  may  have  affected  her  opinion  of  this  worthy. 
"  I  was  very  young  then,  but  somewhat  observant."  So  it 
appears.  She  was  full  of  spirits  long  unsubdued  to  demure- 
ness  by  her  Quaker  training.  She  was  sent  to  school  to  the 
philanthropic,  eminently  humane  Anthony  Benezet,  who  gov- 
erned his  pupils  by  studying  their  dispositions  and  appealing 
to  their  higher  qualities.  He  discovered  that  the  only  curb 
which  could  hold  in  check  Deborah's  sense  of  fun  was  her 
sense  of  honor.  For  some  reason,  the  Quaker  practice  of 
using  the  Christian  name,  which  on  the  lips  of  some  Friends 
has  an  almost  apostolic  simplicity  and  sweetness,  was  not  in 
force  at  Mr.  Benezet's  school,  and  the  rough  custom  (though 
he  must  have  made  it  sound  gentle)  of  calling  the  girls  by 
their  family  names  prevailed  :  when  he  left  the  school-room 
he  found  that  the  best  way  of  keeping  order  and  keeping 
"  Norris"  in  order  was  to  appoint  her  monitress.  She  con- 
fessed afterwards  that  she  had  not  made  the  best  of  her  time 
and  his  teaching.  Shortly  after  leaving  school  she  became  so 
conscious  of  her  deficiencies  that  she  undertook  a  course  of 
reading  and  study,  which  she  pursued  with  so  much  energy 
that  in  a  short  time  she  acquired  more  than  she  had  done 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  283 

during  all  her  school  years.  Such  a  resolution  and  so  much 
steadiness  in  carrying  it  out  would  be  creditable  to  a  young 
girl  of  the  present  day.  To  value  it  fully  in  Deborah,  we 
must  remember  how  differently  the  whole  question  of  educa- 
tion, especially  female  education,  was  considered  a  hundred 
years  ago  :  it  was  pretty  much  summed  up  in  the  sampler 
and  the  spelling-book,  and,  to  judge  by  the  orthography  of 
many  a  fine  lady,  the  latter  was  held  of  minor  importance. 
The  standard  was  immeasurably  low;  women  of  fashion  were 
required  to  be  agreeable  and  amusing,  and  for  the  most 
part  were  so  by  dint  of  mother  wit ;  with  Quakers  in  this 
countiy  mental  cultivation  has  always  been  an  individual  dis- 
tinction, and  the  fair  Friends  were  expected  only  to  be  do- 
mestic and  notable.  None  of  the  ambition  of  the  present  day 
v/as  awakened,  which  stirs  up  every  clever  girl  to  show  that 
against  wind  and  tide  she  can  make  as  much  headway  as  a 
boy  of  her  age.  Add  to  this  the  difficulty  of  obtaining 
masters,  the  comparative  fewness  of  books,  the  absence  of 
the  intellectual  element  in  conversation  and  correspondence, 
when  the  best  minds  were  engrossed  by  passing  events.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  brave  and  spirited  girl  put  herself  to  work,  and, 
besides  speedily  making  up  for  lost  time,  formed  habits  of 
literary  occupation  which  lasted  throughout  life. 

She  was  about  fifteen  at  the  time  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, of  which  she  was  an  ear-witness.  She  had  clam- 
bered upon  the  garden-fence  to  get  sight  of  what  was  going 
on  ;  but  the  view  was  shut  off  by  a  low  frame  building  in  In- 
dependence Square  which  had  been  put  up  for  astronomical 
purposes.  These  are  her  recollections  of  that  momentous 
morning.  "  Plow  a  little  time  spreads  the  mantle  of  oblivion 
over  the  manner  of  the  most  important  events !  It  is  now  a 
matter  of  doubt  at  what  hour  or  how  the  Declaration  was 
given  to  the  people  :  perhaps  few  remain  who  heard  it  read  on 
that  day;  of  those  few  I  am  one,  being  in  the  lot  adjoining  to 
our  old  mansion  in  Chestnut  Street,  that  then  extended  to 
Fifth.  I  distinctly  heard  the  words  of  that  instrument  read 
to  the  people  (I  believe  from  the  State-house  steps,  for  I  did 


284      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

not  see  the  speaker).  ...  I  think  it  was  Charles  Thomson's 
voice.  It  took  place  a  little  after  twelve  at  noon,  and  they 
then  proceeded  down  the  street  (I  understood),  to  read  it  at 
the  court-house.  It  was  a  time  of  fearful  doubt  and  great 
anxiety  with  the  people,  many  of  whom  were  appalled  at  the 
boldness  of  the  measure,  and  the  first  audience  of  the  Decla- 
ration was  neither  very  numerous  nor  composed  of  the  most 
respectable  class  of  citizens."  We  look  back  now  and  picture 
to  ourselves  a  united  multitude,  wrought  up  by  enthusiasm 
and  ardor  beyond  misgivings,  listening  to  the  words  of  the 
majestic  group  who  had  decided  the  destinies  of  the  nation, 
and  then  sweeping  onward  to  proclaim  and  spread  the  great 
news  to  a  rejoicing  land.  Here  is  the  real  scene :  a  knot  of 
men  oppressed  by  the  sense  of  consequences ;  a  small  and 
somewhat  shabby  crowd ;  one  figure  whose  face,  like  the  heads- 
man's, is  forever  hidden,  standing  on  what  John  Adams  called 
"  that  awful  platform  ;"  an  eager  school-girl  clinging  to  the  wall 
of  her  father's  garden,  drinking  in  the  words  of  the  invisible 
speaker. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  she  again  comes  before  us, 
in  the  pages  of  a  young  friend,  Sally  Wister,  another  lively 
little  Quakeress,  whose  family  left  Philadelphia,  apprehending 
the  entrance  of  the  British  troops,  and  retired  to  a  farm  in 
North  Wales,  a  district  about  twenty  miles  from  town,  in  the 
direction  of  Valley  Forge.  During  this  exile,  which  lasted 
nearly  two  years,  she  kept  a  journal  for  the  future  perusal 
of  her  "  dear  Debby  Norris,"  as  they  had  no  means  of  ex- 
changing letters.  North  Wales  was  settled  by  an  exodus 
from  the  old  country  not  long  after  the  first  immigration 
under  Edward  Jones,  who  took  up  the  townships  of  Upper 
and  Lower  Merion  in  his  own  name  for  the  numerous  cousin- 
hood  who  accompanied  him.  They  were  all  families  of  sub- 
stance and  respectability  in  their  native  Merionethshire,  and 
have  remained  so  through  succeeding  generations  in  the  land 
of  their  adoption.  It  was  no  doubt  in  consequence  of  their 
taking  so  kindly  to  the  new  soil  that  a  few  years  later,  at 
the  very  beginning  of  the  last  century,  arrived  more  Welsh 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  285 

colonists,  Davids,  Ffoulkes,  etc.,  who  settled  east  of  the  Schuyl- 
kill, near  the  rise  of  the  Wissahiccon,  and  called  their  villages 
by  the  old  names  of  the  motherland,  Gvvynedd  and  Penlyn. 
The  Wisters,  of  a  German  stock  who  had  intermarried  with 
them,  now  sought  a  quiet  retreat  in  the  midst  of  their  Kelt- 
American  kinsfolk;  but  there  was  no  nook  so  secluded  within 
the  meridian  of  a  large  city  but  that  some  signs  and  sounds  of 
war  found  their  way  thither.  Officers  of  the  American  army 
were  quartered  on  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  North  Wales, 
and  the  young  girl's  journal  relates  the  alarms  and  affrights  of 
herself  and  her  cousins  "  Liddy  and  Prissa"  from  tipsy  militia, 
marauding  light-horse,  and  imaginary  Hessians, — the  terror  of 
all  country  neighborhoods.  The  charms  of  our  own  officers 
provoke  her  utmost  eloquence, — although  she  always  writes 
from  the  comic  point  of  view,  making  fun  of  her  fears  and 
laughing  at  her  sentiment ;  but  could  a  position  be  fancied 
more  dangerous  to  the  peace  of  a  Quaker-bred  damsel  ? 
"  How  new  is  our  situation  !  I  feel  in  good  spirits,  though 
surrounded  by  an  army,  the  house  full  of  officers,  the  yard 
alive  with  soldiers  ! — very  peaceable  sort  of  people,  tho' ;  they 
eat  like  other  folks,  talk  like  them,  and  behave  themselves  with 
elegance,  so  I  will  not  be  afraid  of  them,  that  I  won't !  Adieu. 
I  am  going  to  my  chamber,  to  dream,  I  suppose,  of  bayonets 
and  swords,  sashes,  guns,  and  epaulets." 

She  takes  so  much  pride  in  being  invincible  that  one  sus- 
pects she  now  and  then  felt  her  heart  of  fifteen  in  peril.  The 
Virginians  are  the  prime  heroes  and  favorites.  One  day  a 
new  party  arrives,  and  Miss  Sally,  struck  with  the  appearance 
of  the  commanding  officer,  inquires  his  name.  " '  Captain 
Dyer.'  Oh  !  the  name.  .  .  .  Take  a  circumstantial  account 
of  this  afternoon  and  the  person  of  this  extraordinary  man. 
His  exterior  first.  His  name  is  not  Dyer,  but  Alexander 
Spotswood  Dandridge,  which  certainly  gives  a  genteel  idea 
of  the  man.  I  will  be  particular.  His  person  is  more 
elegantly  formed  than  any  I  ever  seen  (sic) ;  tall  and  com- 
manding ;  his  forehead  is  very  white,  though  the  lower  part 
of  his  face   is   much   sunburnt ;    his   features   are   extremely 


286      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

pleasing ;  an  even,  white  set  of  teeth  ;  dark  hair  and  eyes.  I 
can't  describe  him  better  than  by  saying  he  is  the  handsomest 
man  I  ever  beheld.  Betsy  and  Liddy  coincide  in  this  opinion. 
.  .  .  The  moon  gave  a  sadly  pleasing  light.  We  sat  at  the 
door  till  nine.  Dandridge  is  sensible,  and  (divested  of  some 
freedoms  which  might  be  called  gallant  in  the  fashionable 
world)  he  is  polite  and  agreeable.  His  greatest  fault  is  a 
propensity  to  swearing,  which  throws  a  shade  over  his  ac- 
complishments. I  asked  him  why  he  did  so.  'It  is  a 
favorite  vice  of  mine,  Miss  Sally.'  At  nine  he  went  to  his 
chamber  :  sets  off  at  sunrise. 

"  Fourth  day  mom.,  12  dclk. — I  was  awakened  this  morning 
with  a  great  racket  of  the  captain's  servant  calling  him,  but 
the  lazy  fellow  never  rose  till  about  half  an  hour  eight ! 
This  his  daylight  ride  !  I  imagined  they  would  be  gone  be- 
fore now,  so  I  dressed  in  a  green  skirt  and  dark  short-gown. 
Provoking !  So  down  I  came,  this  captain  (wild  wretch !) 
standing  at  the  back  door.  He  bowed,  and  called  me.  I  only 
looked,  and  went  to  breakfast.  About  nine  I  took  my  work 
and  seated  myself  in  the  parlor.  Not  long  had  I  sat  when  in 
came  Dandridge, — the  handsomest  man  in  existence,  at  least 
that  I  had  seen.  But  stop  here  while  I  just  say,  the  night 
before,  chatting  upon  dress,  he  said  he  had  no  patience  with 
those  officers  who  every  morn  before  they  went  on  detach- 
ment would  wait  to  be  dressed  and  powdered.  '  I  am,'  said 
I,  '  excessively  fond  of  powder,  and  think  it  very  becoming.' 
'  Are  you?'  he  replied.  '  I  am  very  careless,  as  often  wearing 
my  cap  thus'  (turning  the  back  part  before)  '  as  any  way.'  I 
left  off  at  where  he  come  in.  He  was  powdered  very  white, 
a  (pretty-colored)  brown  coat  lapelled  with  green,  and  white 
waistcoat,  etc. ;  his 

'  sword  beside  him  negligently  hung.' 

He  made  a  truly  elegant  figure.  '  Good-morning,  Miss  Sally. 
You  are  very  well,  I  hope  ?'  '  Very  well :  pray  sit  down,' — 
which  he  did,  close  by  me.  '  Oh,  dear  !'  said  I,  '  I  see  thee  is 
powdered  ?'      '  Yes,  ma'am.      I  have   dressed  myself  off  for 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  287 

you.'  Will  I  be  excused,  Debby,  if  I. look  upon  his  being 
powdered  in  the  light  of  a  compliment  to  me?  Yes,  Sally, 
as  thee  is  a  country  maid  and  don't  often  meet  with  compli- 
ments.    Saucy  Debby  Norris !" 

She  constantly  introduces  imaginary  dialogues  between 
herself  and  her  absent  friend,  in  which  the  latter  always  gives 
her  good  advice  in  a  bantering  tone.  Sally  Wister  was  a 
stanch  patriot,  and  repudiates  Captain  Dandridge's  accusa- 
tion of  being  a  Tory.  She  will  not  even  write  the  hateful 
term  in  full,  but  speaks  of  them  as  T — y  and  T — s,  which 
many  of  the  Society  of  Friends  undoubtedly  were.  But  not 
Mrs.  Norris  and  her  young  daughter,  who  watched  the 
progress  of  the  struggle  for  liberty  with  intense  interest  and 
sympathy,  their  house,  as  we  have  seen,  being  open  to  the 
leaders  of  the  Revolution,  while  the  fair  Shippens  and  Chews 
were  smiling  on  the  British  officers.  School-days  were  over, 
and,  while  industriously  following  the  plan  of  study  she  had 
laid  out  for  herself,  Deborah  took  her  place  in  her  mother's 
drawing-room  to  aid  in  receiving  the  curiously-mixed  society 
which  met  there.  A  little  story  remains  of  that  period,  illus- 
trating the  good  feeling  and  good  breeding  which,  when  com- 
bined as  in  her,  make  the  perfect  hostess.  One  day  the 
Chevalier  de  Ternan*  (a  young  Frenchman  in  our  service, 
distinguished  for  wit,  talent,  and  acquirement)  happened  to 
call  on  Mrs.  Norris  when  the  room  was  full  of  old  friends 
and  persons  of  their  own  religious  persuasion,  between  whom 
and  the  accomplished  foreigner  there  seemed  little  in  common. 
Deborah  looked  anxiously  round,  and  presently  singled  out 
Humphrey  Marshall,  a  distinguished  naturalist,  but  a  man 
of  the  plainest  address,  and  presented  them  to  each  other, 
adroitly  turning  the  conversation  upon  botany,  which  she 
knew  to  be  a  favorite  science  of  De  Ternan's,  and  then  left 
them,  to  look  after  other  guests.  After  a  long  talk,  De  Ternan 
came  up  to  her  with  the  inquiry,  "  Miss  Norris,  have  you  many 
such  men  as  this  Mr.  Marshall  among  you  ?"     Of  the  cheva- 


Vide  Travels  of  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  vol.  i. 


288      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

lier  she  afterwards  made  mention  on  some  rather  unfavora- 
ble remarks  upon  him  in  Sir  John  Sinclair's  correspondence, 
where,  however,  he  is  spoken  of  as  a  "  very  able  and  insin- 
uating man,  speaking  English  perfectly  well."  She  says, 
after  quoting  the  passage,  "  I  was  well  acquainted  with 
Ternan,  and  thought  him  a  very  agreeable,  as  he  certainly 
was  a  very  accomplished,  man.  He  meant  to  have  settled 
here,  and  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Betsey  Cadwalader, 
one  of  Dr.  Cadwalader's  daughters,  who  was  neither  young, 
beautiful,  nor  rich,  but  a  sensible,  agreeable  woman.  She 
died,  and  he  soon  after  left  the  country." 

Deborah  did  not  long  remain  at  home  to  help  her  mother's 
guests  out  of  their  little  difficulties.  During  the  last  year  of 
the  Revolutionary  War,  when  not  quite  twenty,  she  married 
Dr.  George  Logan,  the  grandson  of  the  Secretary  and  Chief 
Justice  of  Pennsylvania.  Of  their  acquaintance  and  court- 
ship there  is  no  record ;  but  they  had  probably  always  known 
each  other,  as  both  belonged  to  the  old  Quaker  stock  of 
Philadelphia,  their  ancestors  had  been  friends  and  neighbors, 
and  there  had  been  an  intermarriage  between  the  families  in 
the  previous  generation.  Nor  do  we  know  whether  this  was 
the  sprightly  though  discreet  young  lady's  first  love;  but 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  so.  In  after-years  his  was 
the  only  name,  the  only  image,  her  heart  ever  recalled :  as  we 
follow  her  history,  we  come  to  the  conviction  that  Deborah 
Norris  had  loved  but  one  man,  and  him  she  loved  with  her 
whole  heart  for  her  whole  life. 

Dr.  Logan  was  born  at  Stenton,  9th  September,  1753.  He 
went  to  England  first  to  school  as  a  little  boy,  later  to  study 
medicine,  completing  his  course  in  Edinburgh  and  Paris.  He 
was  in  the  latter  city  while  Franklin  was  on  his  diplomatic 
mission  to  France,  and  was  treated  with  much  friendliness  by 
the  great  man,  who  in  his  own  early  days  had  received  kind- 
ness from  James  Logan,  the  young  Philadelphian's  grand- 
father. On  his  return  to  America,  in  the  autumn  of  1780, 
Franklin  gave  him  letters  to  various  prominent  citizens,  com- 
mending his  ability,  worth,  and  especially  his  patriotism.    Dr. 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  289 

Logan  had  pursued  the  study  of  his  profession  under  diffi- 
culty and  opposition  :  his  elder  brother  was  a  physician,  and 
their  father  wished  the  younger  son  to  go  into  business.  He 
went  through  the  necessary  training,  but  gave  every  spare 
moment  to  books  on  the  healing  science,  and  at  an  early  age 
had  sufficient  knowledge  and  skill  to  inoculate  himself  for 
smallpox.  At  length  the  strength  of  his  vocation,  seconded 
by  the  urgency  of  his  brother,  prevailed  with  his  father,  and 
he  was  allowed  to  follow  his  natural  bent.  But  circumstances 
were  too  strong  for  him  in  the  end.  When  he  reached  home 
from  his  studies  and  travels,  brother  and  parents  were  gone : 
they  had  died  within  a  short  time  of  one  another.  The  farm 
of  Stenton  had  been  pillaged,  and  the  house  had  narrowly 
escaped  burning  at  the  hands  of  the  British.  A  party  detailed 
by  Colonel  Tvvisleton,  afterwards  Lord  Saye  and  Sele,  to  de- 
stroy the  property  of  leading  rebels,  came  to  the  house,  then 
occupied  only  by  an  old  family  servant,  and  told  her,  as  a 
special  favor,  that  she  might  remove  anything  of  her  own  she 
wished  to  save,  as  they  were  going  to  set  fire  to  the  building. 
In  spite  of  her  entreaties,  they  went  to  the  barn  to  fetch  straw 
for  the  purpose ;  but  at  this  moment  an  officer,  with  drawn 
sword,  galloped  up,  to  inquire  about  deserters.  She  answered 
promptly  that  there  were  some  now  hiding  in  the  barn.  He 
routed  them  out,  and  drove  them  off  before  him,  notwith- 
standing their  protestations.  Thus  that  beautiful,  venerable 
mansion  was  saved  from  the  fate  of  Fairhill  and  sixteen  other 
fine  country-places  in  the  neighborhood.  The  farm,  however, 
was  devastated,  "and,"  says  Dr.  Logan's  wife,  writing  his 
memoir  nearly  half  a  century  afterwards,  "  when  its  owner 
returned  to  Pennsylvania,  the  war  and  its  consequences  had 
left  him  nothing  to  receive  at  the  hands  of  his  father's  execu- 
tors but  wasted  estates  and  piles  of  utterly  depreciated  paper 
currency."  During  the  winter  of  1781-82,  Stenton  had 
been  placed  by  Dr.  Logan  at  the  disposal  of  the  refugees 
from  Charleston,  which  was  then  occupied  by  the  British. 
Among  others,  General  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney,  his 
brother,  Major   Thomas    Pinckney,   and    Edward    Rutledge, 

19 


290 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


afterwards  Governor  of  South  Carolina,  with  their  families, 
found  a  haven  under  this  hospitable  roof,  and  fire-wood  from 
the  noble  timber  of  the  estate  roared  in  the  great  tiled  chim- 
ney-places, to  give  these  exiles  such  warmth  of  cheer  as  the 
North  affords.  "  They  were  most  of  them  persons  of  com- 
petent estates,"  says  the  memoir,  "but  the  situation  of  their 
country,  in  possession  of  the  enemy's  forces,  rendering  it  im- 
possible for  them  to  command  money,  they  found  themselves 
in  very  distressing  circumstances  at  that  period.  ...  It  is 
difficult  now  to  conceive  the  distresses  and  embarrassments 
which  attended  this  period  of  our  affairs.  Dr.  Logan  found 
it  difficult  to  obtain  a  small  sum  on  loan,  notwithstanding  the 
ample  security  which  he  had  to  offer."  It  was  at  this  juncture 
of  his  fortunes  that  Dr.  Logan  married,  in  September,  1781, 
being  twenty-eight  years  old,  his  bride,  eight  years  younger. 
It  is  consistent  with  the  invariable  absence  of  egotism  and 
concern  about  what  merely  regards  herself  that  Mrs.  Logan, 
as  we  must  henceforth  call  her,  does  not  mention  where  her 
home  was  immediately  after  her  marriage.  Her  absorbing 
thought  was  her  husband.  This  is  the  portrait  of  him  which 
her  fond  pen  traced  in  after-years  when  she  lived  only  in  the 
memory  of  the  blessed  past.  "  His  person  was  formed  with 
exact  symmetry,  about  the  middle  size,  erect  and  graceful  in 
his  demeanor;  his  countenance  would  not  easily  be  forgotten 
by  any  person  who  had  once  seen  him;  it  had  an  expression  of 
thought,  benignity,  and  of  open,  unsuspecting  honesty  that  was 
very  remarkable.  He  walked  and  rode  extremely  well :  indeed, 
when  on  horseback  his  air  and  appearance  was  noble ;  and  in 
his  youth  he  was  remarkably  active.  His  mind  was  wholly 
unpolluted  by  avarice.  His  heart  was  tender,  and  he  was  often 
led  to  sympathize  with  others  in  their  distress  and  difficulties. 
Yet  he  had  a  quickness  of  temper,  and  could  show,  on  occa- 
sion, the  utmost  spirit  and  resolution,  for  his  personal  courage 
was  great.  He  was  a  most  true  republican,  contemning  luxury 
and  despising  false  glory.  I  may  be  asked  for  the  reverse  of 
this  picture.  To  me  he  had  no  reverse,  but  was  exactly  the 
kind,  good,  upright  man  which  I  have  here  represented  him." 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  291 

Nobody  has  given  us  a  portrait  of  the  writer ;  nor  did  she, 
like  her  fair  contemporaries  in  France,  leave  us  a  flattering 
likeness  of  herself  in  pen-and-ink.  There  is  no  one  left 
to  tell  us  how  "  saucy  Debby  Norris"  looked  at  twenty — 
whether  she  was  blonde  or  brunette,  pale  or  blooming.  Some 
still  remember  her  as  a  beautiful,  dignified  old  lady,  with  a 
manner  of  infinite  kindliness  and  suavity,  wearing  her  plain 
dark  skirt  and  short-gown,  cap,  and  kerchief,  with  a  great  air. 
The  picture  of  her  by  Connarroe,  in  the  possession  of  Miss 
M.  N.  Logan,  taken  when  she  was  seventy  or  upwards,  shows 
a  fine  oval  face,  long  aquiline  nose,  slightly  prominent  under 
lip,  bright,  steady  brown  eyes,  a  remarkable  harmony  in  the 
whole  countenance,  a  sweet  habit  of  physiognomy  which 
yet  is  not  a  smile,  and  a  girlish  freshness  and  delicacy  of 
complexion  which  she  kept  until  the  last:  the  benignity  and 
urbanity  of  expression  are  most  winning.  It  is  evident  that 
she  must  have  been  a  very  handsome  young  woman.  But  if  she 
had  been  the  plainest  of  her  sex  the  heart  that  shone  through 
her  features  would  have  irradiated  them  with  loveliness. 

She  chose  poverty  and  privation  when  she  left  her  easy 
home  for  this  needy  young  heir,  and,  although  under  his 
excellent  management  and  the  returning  prosperity  of  the 
country  his  affairs  were  soon  in  a  satisfactory  condition,  for 
some  reason  or  other  her  means  never  seem  to  have  exceeded 
a  competency.  But  in  those  days,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
wealth  and  a  liberal  scale  of  living  in  Philadelphia  did  not 
imply  luxury  or  extravagance ;  and  this  child  of  rich  parents 
either  brought  with  her,  or  soon  acquired,  habits  of  thrift  and 
frugality  which  enabled  her  to  live  in  comfort,  with  no  un- 
worthy and  uneasy  preoccupations  about  household  matters. 
The  condition  of  Dr.  Logan's  property  compelled  him  to 
give  up  the  idea  of  practicing  his  profession,  and  less  than  a 
year  after  their  marriage  they  moved  to  Stenton.  This  fine 
old  seat  was  built  in  1728,  by  James  Logan,  in  the  midst  of 
a  wide  tract  of  undulating  land,  through  which  winds  a  small 
stream,  the  Wingohocking,  an  Indian  name  said  to  mean 
"  crooked  water."     He  reclaimed  his  acres  from  the  primeval 


292 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


forest,  of  which  some  grand  survivors  still  linger  amid  the 
tracks  of  streets  which  have  been  opened  through  their  realm, 
as  one  might  fancy  the  Indian  chiefs,  the  original  masters  of 
the  soil,  standing  silent,  but  stricken  to  the  heart  to  behold 
the  doom  of  their  race  gradually  closing  round  them.  The 
bricks  of  which  the  house  is  built  were  made  on  the  place, 
and  in  one  of  them,  before  the  hall  door,  the  print  of  a  child's 
hand  is  visible, — perhaps  an  Indian  papoose's,  for  there  were 
not  many  little  white  children  to  play  and  stray  among  the 
woods,  then  still  haunted  by  the  red  man  :  there  it  remains, 
an  emblem  of  benediction,  a  symbolic  blessing  of  innocence, 
on  the  house  in  which  the  history  of  human  lives  had  not 
yet  begun.  When  Mrs.  Logan  went  to  live  there,  the  estate, 
already  divided,  stretched  from  Fisher's  to  Nicetown  Lane, 
and  from  the  Germantovvn  turnpike  to  the  Old  York  Road, — 
miles  of  softly  swelling  meadow,  over  which  were  scattered 
magnificent  oaks  and  maples,  standing  alone  in  perfect  devel- 
opment and  dignity,  groups  of  graceful  beeches,  and,  the  pride 
of  the  place,  an  avenue  of  grand  hemlocks,  said  to  have  been 
planted  by  William  Penn.  The  wide  brook  twisted  through 
an  open  valley,  towards  which  the  land  slopes  from  the  house, 
sometimes  between  smooth  green  banks,  sometimes  with  a 
narrow  reach  of  soft  sand  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  little 
hollows  thatched  with  the  roots  of  tall  trees ;  half  its  abundant 
purling  water  was  diverted  into  a  mill-race,  as  clear  and  glassy 
as  the  parent  stream,  which  took  a  straighter  course  along  the 
farther  side  of  the  meadows,  the  grassy  footpath  beside  it  shaded 
for  its  whole  length  by  lofty,  wide-spreading  maples  and  but- 
tonwood  trees  ;  brook  and  race  met  at  last,  near  one  extremity 
of  the  place,  in  a  pretty  little  pond,  bordered  by  woodland,  at 
the  foot  of  the  curving  vale,  near  an  old  stone  mill,  where  the 
Logans  ground  their  own  corn.  Besides  the  great  house  and 
its  dependencies  which  clustered  about  it,  there  was  no  other 
building  on  the  place,  except  a  small  farm-house  near  the  head 
of  the  vale.  The  sweetest  rural  solitude  brooded  over  these 
meadows,  whether  one  sought  them  on  a  May  morning,  when 
the  grass  was  springing  and  the  woodland  bursting  into  early 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  293 

leaf,  the  ground  covered  with  blue  and  white  anemones  and 
tufts  of  the  bright,  red,  slender,  nodding  columbine,  the  air 
ringing  with  the  notes  of  the  shyest  birds;  or  on  a  summer 
noon,  when  a  humming  silence  possessed  the  fields,  and  the 
only  creatures  stirring  were  the  dragon-flies  darting  about 
over  the  new-mown  hay,  or  the  cattle  leaving  the  shade  of  the 
great  trees  to  straggle  slowly  down  to  drink  at  the  fords  of 
the  brook ;  or  when  an  autumn  sunset  was  shedding  double 
splendor  on  the  maples,  and  setting  a  halo  round  the  dark 
heads  of  the  hemlocks,  and  the  ground  beneath  them  was 
strewn  with  gold  and  crimson  leaves,  scattered  there  by  the 
brisk  October  breezes.  Round  the  house  there  was  the  quiet 
stir  and  movement  of  a  country-place,  with  its  large  gardens 
full  of  old-fashioned  flowers  and  fruits,  its  poultry-yard  and 
stables.  The  latter  were  connected  with  the  house  by  an 
underground  passage,  which  led  to  a  concealed  staircase  and 
a  door  under  the  roof,  like  the  "  priest's  escape"  in  some  old 
English  country-seats :  this  was  a  means  of  concealment  or 
flight  from  Indians ;  and  it  was  probably  for  the  same  ob- 
ject that  the  offices  surrounded  the  main  building,  connected 
with  it  by  brick  courts  and  covered  ways.  They  were  all  at 
the  back,  and  so  disposed  as  to  enhance  the  picturesque  and 
dignified  air  of  the  old  mansion,  the  interior  of  which  is  as 
curious  to  modern  eyes  as  it  is  imposing.  One  enters  by 
a  brick  hall,  opposite  which  is  the  magnificent  double  stair- 
case, while  right  and  left  are  lofty  rooms,  covered  with  fine 
old-fashioned  wood-work ;  in  some  of  them  the  wainscot 
being  carried  up  to  the  ceiling  above  the  chimney-place, 
which  in  all  the  apartments  was  a  vast  opening  set  round 
with  blue  and  white  Scripture  tiles  of  the  most  grotesque 
devices.  There  are  corner-cupboards,  and,  in  some  of  the 
rooms,  cupboards  in  arched  niches  over  the  mantel-pieces, — 
capital  show-cases  for  the  rare  china  and  magnificent  old 
silver  which  adorned  the  dinner-table  on  state  occasions. 
Half  the  front  of  the  house  in  the  second  story  was  taken 
up  by  one  large,  finely-lighted  room, — the  library  of  the  book- 
loving  masters  of  the  place. 


294 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


To  this  beautiful,  venerable,  romantic,  yet  withal  most  home- 
like abode,  came  the  young  wife,  with  a  field  for  all  her  natu- 
ral tastes,  love  of  the  country,  of  flowers,  animals,  study,  and 
of  society  too,  for  during  her  husband's  life  it  was  the  resort 
of  all  the  distinguished  people  whom  the  times  brought  to 
Philadelphia,  and  few  strangers,  whether  from  abroad  or  from 
other  parts  of  America,  passed  through  town  without  present- 
ing themselves  at  the  hospitable  threshold  of  Stenton.  Happy 
years  opened  before  the  young  couple.  Next  to  medicine, 
agriculture  was  Dr.  Logan's  favorite  pursuit,  and,  being  forced 
by  necessity  to  devote  his  attention  to  it,  his  farm  soon  became 
a  model  of  successful  scientific  husbandry.  "  I  think  I  never 
saw  finer  fields  of  clover  and  timothy  than  were  at  that  time 
to  be  seen  at  Stenton,"  writes  Mrs.  Logan :  "  he  was  also  one 
of  the  first  who  used  gypsum  as  a  manure,  and  its  success  at 
the  beginning  was  wonderful.  Perhaps  at  no  period  of  his 
life  did  he  experience  greater  happiness  than  at  this,  his  in- 
tervals of  leisure  being  employed  in  reading  authors  of  the 
greatest  utility  in  agricultural  and  political  science,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  foremost  and  most  zealous  advocates  in  whatever 
he  thought  would  promote  the  public  good.  The  Agricultural 
Society  of  Philadelphia,  and  a  similar  one  for  the  county,  were 
among  those  objects.  That  for  the  county  was  first  brought 
together  at  Stenton.  .  .  .  Domestic  manufactures,  rightly 
so  called  from  being  indeed  the  production  of  the  farmers' 
families,  were  a  favorite  subject  of  their  encouragement;  and 
this  gave  scope  to  the  ingenuity  and  industry  of  their  wives,' 
and  introduced  us  in  a  social  and  pleasant  manner  to  each 
other's  acquaintance.  I  have  not  forgotten  the  agreeable  in- 
terchange of  visits,  the  beneficial  emulation,  and  the  harmless 
pride  with  which  we  exhibited  specimens  of  our  industry  and 
good  management  to  each  other.  The  spinning-wheel  was 
going  in  every  house,  and  it  was  a  high  object  of  our  ambition 
to  see  our  husbands  and  families  clothed  in  our  own  manu- 
factures (a  good  practice  which  my  honored  husband  never 
relinquished),  and  to  produce  at  our  social  dinner-parties  the 
finest  ale  of  our  own  brewing,  the  best  home-made  wines, 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  295 

cheese,  and  other  articles  which  we  thought  ought  to  be  made 
among  ourselves  rather  than  to  be  imported  from  abroad." 

Mrs.  Logan's  intercourse  with  her  humbler  neighbors  was 
marked  by  a  true  sense  of  human  brotherhood,  as  well  as  the 
most  unusual  and  unselfish  benevolence.  In  her  diary  there 
is  a  minute  of  a  visit  to  a  cottage  not  far  off:  "  The  wife  is  a 
pleasing,  cleanly  woman ;  she  presented  me  with  a  piece  of 
nice,  pure  bees'-wax,  which  I  accepted,  having  myself  felt  the 
disposition  which  is  unwilling  to  let  those  we  are  pleased  with 
depart  without  some  token  of  its  regard,  even  if  it  is  small." 
The  sweet,  unconscious  graciousness  with  which  she  obeyed 
these  impulses  must  have  added  greatly  to  the  charm  of  her 
manner,  to  which  everybody  who  ever  saw  her  bears  witness. 
A  lady  who  was  once,  when  a  very  little  child,  taken  to  see 
her,  remembers  that,  on  parting,  Mrs.  Logan,  then  an  elderly 
dame,  gave  her  a  little  pincushion,  saying,  "  Thee  is  a  nice 
little  girl,  and  I  give  thee  this  to  make  thee  remember  thy 
visit."  These  simple  acts  rose  from  a  deep  well  of  kindliness 
in  the  nature,  whence  at  need  came  strength  for  the  greatest 
and  most  generous  self-abnegation.  Mrs.  Logan  tells,  in  illus- 
tration of  her  husband's  humanity,  an  anecdote  of  his  bringing 
home  a  young  farm-laborer  who  was  stricken  with  smallpox 
to  be  nursed  at  Stenton.  The  young  man  lodged  with  kins- 
folk, who  at  the  first  hint  of  the  nature  of  the  disease  rushed 
out  of  the  house,  leaving  him  to  his  fate.  Thereupon  Dr. 
Logan,  with  most  exalted  philanthropy,  brought  the  poor 
fellow  home  and  tended  him  through  the  attack,  which  turned 
out  to  be  of  the  most  malignant  type, — confluent, — bringing 
him  back  to  health  from  the  brink  of  a  ghastly  and  hideous 
death.  The  date  of  this  incident  is  not  given,  but,  in  view  of 
the  circumstances  of  Dr.  Logan's  life  and  some  of  the  details 
which  are  mentioned,  it  could  hardly  have  happened  before 
his  marriage;  so  that  the  fair  young  wife  must  have  been 
exposed  to  the  contagion,  even  if  she  did  not  assist  in  the 
nursing,  and  the  credit  is  at  least  half  hers  ;  but  of  herself  she 
says  not  one  word  in  the  matter. 

Mrs.  Logan  was  a  very  early  riser,  to  which  and  a  remark- 


296      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

able  order  and  system  in  the  arrangement  of  her  occupations 
must  be  ascribed  the  almost  incredible  number  of  things  she 
accomplished  without  worry  or  flurry,  or  even  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  a  very  busy  woman.  One  of  her  daily  duties 
was  to  oversee  the  work  of  her  maids ;  another  was  the  visit 
to  the  kitchen,  where  she  herself  prepared  the  dishes  preferred 
by  each  member  of  her  family,  and  made  "  cakes  and  mince- 
pies,  for  which  I  have  a  great  reputation  in  the  neighborhood," 
she  says  in  her  diary ;  she  also  did  her  own  clear-starching, 
for  the  fine  lawn  Quaker  caps  and  kerchiefs  require  as  light  a 
hand  as  lace;  and  gardening  was  another  constant  source  of 
employment.  "  In  the  morning  I  was  busily  employed  in  the 
every-day  recurring  work  which  must  be  performed  if  we 
would  live  in  comfort,  yet  which  leaves  no  trace  of  our  in- 
dustry for  the  morrow."  But  all  this  was  dispatched  before 
the  noonday  dinner.  In  the  leisure  and  repose  of  the  after- 
part  of  the  day  came  the  thimble  or  knitting-needles,  the  book 
or  pen,  the  interchange  of  friendly  visits,  for  she  was  never 
slack  in  her  social  duties,  and,  as  we  shall  see,  the  cares  of  a 
hostess  were  among  those  which  constantly  devolved  upon 
her.  Yet  there  was  time  for  gathering  flowers  and  decorating 
the  rooms  with  them ;  even  for  feeding  the  squirrels,  who 
made  their  homes  in  the  trees  surrounding  the  house  and 
were  on  the  friendliest  terms  with  its  inmates.  Her  husband 
shared  her  love  for  animals,  and  tamed  one  squirrel  so  com- 
pletely that  it  would  come  down  from  its  high  perch  as  he 
sat  at  his  door-step,  eat  from  his  hand,  and  search  his  pockets 
for  provender.  To  these  dumb  pets  were  soon  added  more 
precious  objects  of  tenderness  and  affection:  sons  were  born, 
— one  in  the  autumn  of  1783;  a  second  three  years  later;  a 
third  in  1791. 

If  we  may  judge  by  the  love  and  respect,  bordering  on 
adoration,  with  which  Mrs.  Logan  inspired  her  grandchildren, 
her  relations  with  her  own  offspring  must  have  been  unusually 
close  and  sacred.  She  promoted  all  their  interests  and  pleas- 
ures as  far  as  lay  in  her  power,  and  trembled  lest  her  solicitude 
for  their  happiness  should  interfere  with  her  graver  responsi- 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


297 


bilities  to  them.  When  the  days  of  dependence  were  past, 
she  still  strove  to  bind  them  to  her  by  ties  which  should  with- 
hold them  from  temptations  and  dangers  which  she  could  not 
avert.  "Up  at  three  o'clock  on  Second  Day  morning,  in  order 
to  expedite  Algernon's  setting  off  on  his  shooting  expedition 
with  Alban  before  daylight.  He  left  me  affectionately,  and  it 
is  almost  needless  to  say  what  I  always  feel  at  parting  with 
either  of  them,  if  it  is  to  go  to  a  distance.  All  my  earthly 
hope  is  centred  on  them,  and  most  earnestly  do  I  beg  for  a 
blessing  upon  them  and  pray  for  their  preservation.  I  think 
I  do  not  say  enough  to  them  in  the  way  of  caution  and  advice  ; 
but  I  fear  to  make  them  shun  my  company  if  precise  and  lec- 
turing."    But  this  is  anticipating. 

During  the  first  ten  years  of  her  married  life  she  continued 
to  see,  as  at  her  mother's  house,  many  men  of  mark  and  im- 
portance, who  were  drawn  to  America  by  sympathy  with  her 
struggle  for  independence,  or  brought  from  other  parts  of  this 
country  by  their  connection  with  the  government.  Among 
the  former  was  Kosciusko,  who  stayed  at  Stenton,  and  found 
among  those  rural  scenes  some  of  that  balm  for  the  incurable 
hurt  of  his  noble  heart  which  the  companionship  of  Nature 
only  could  administer.  His  kind  hosts  saw  him  again  when 
he  was  last  in  Philadelphia.  He  was  ill,  and  Dr.  Logan,  who 
knew  him  very  well,  went  frequently  to  look  after  him,  and 
on  one  occasion  took  his  wife.  "  His  lodgings  were  in  South 
Third  Street,  nearly  opposite  to  Governor  McKean's ;  here, 
in  a  small  and  but  indifferently  furnished  room,  I  saw  him  on 
his  couch,  and  I  do  not  think  any  one  who  had  ever  seen  him 
could  ever  forget  his  appearance.  My  heart  was  softened  and 
affected,  and  yearned  towards  him  with  mingled  emotions  of 
admiration,  respect,  and  pity.  There  seemed  a  halo  round  his 
emaciated  form  that  inspired  both  awe  and  tenderness.  Yet 
he  was  very  cheerful;  and  I  can  remember  particularly  he 
commended  the  love  of  animals  and  cultivating  their  attach- 
ment as  a  source  of  innocent  pleasure.  I  told  him  of  the 
gentleness  and  attachment  of  my  Thetis,  who  was  then  in  her 
prime,  and  he  was  pleased  in  recollecting  instances  of  their 


298 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


sagacity  and  good  qualities.  He  spoke  of  the  pleasure  he 
derived  from  drawing,  and  produced  a  crayon  of  Jefferson, — 
an  exact  likeness, — the  attitude  one  I  had  often  seen  the 
philosopher  assume,  but  which  I  had  never  before  seen 
copied.  When  we  rose  up  to  take  leave,  he  took  my  hand 
and  would  have  kissed  it,  but  I  bent  over  and  offered  him  my 
cheek." 

The  learned  and  witty  Portuguese,  Abbe  Correa,  was  an- 
other of  the  visitors,  the  author  of  half  a  dozen  epigrams  on  this 
country  which  have  passed  into  proverbs,  as  that  on  Washing- 
ton, "  a  city  of  magnificent  distances,"  and  "  God  takes  care 
of  children,  fools,  and  North  Americans."  His  sayings  are 
quoted  with  so  many  variations  that  one  cannot  be  sure  of 
having  the  correct  version.  The  foreign  ministers  were 
among  her  guests :  she  mentions  Genet,  who  afterwards  mar- 
ried Miss  Clinton,  as  "  very  pleasing  in  his  address  and  much 
of  a  gentleman  in  appearance  and  manner;"  although  by  his 
conduct  at  a  public  dinner  in  Philadelphia,  one  of  his  closing 
scenes  in  this  country,  he  left  a  deep  disgust  behind  him. 

Of  her  own  distinguished  countrymen  no  one  probably 
interested  her  as  much  as  Dr.  Franklin.  "  His  conversation 
was  easy,  and  appeared  to  grow  entirely  out  of  the  circum- 
stances that  presented  themselves  to  the  company;  yet  I  ob- 
served that  if  you  did  not  find  you  had  acquired  something 
by  being  with  him,  it  must  be  placed  to  the  account  of  your 
own  want  of  attention.  His  familiar  letters  give  you  a  good 
idea  of  his  conversation;  a  natural,  good-humored  (not  sar- 
castic) wit  played  cheerfully  along  and  beguiled  you  into 
maxims  of  prudence  and  wisdom.  ...  I  have  often  thought 
that  Dr.  Franklin  must  have  sensibly  felt  the  difference  be- 
tween the  eclat  which  he  enjoyed  at  the  court  of  France  and 
the  reception  which  he  met  with  upon  his  final  return  to  his 
native  country.  The  elements  of  two  parties  were  then  fer- 
menting themselves  into  the  form  which  they  afterwards 
assumed.  The  mass  of  Pennsylvania  was,  as  it  has  ever  been 
since  (and  may  I  not  say  ever  was  ?),  decidedly  democratic, 
but  there  was   a  contrary  spirit  then   dominant,  and  thinly 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  299 

diffused  over  the  surface  of  society,  who  rejected  the  philoso- 
pher because  they  thought  he  was  too  much  of  that  stamp. 
The  first  Constitution  of  our  State  after  the  Revolution,  which 
was  his  work,  though  adopted  by  the  great  body  of  the  peo- 
ple, was  disliked.    And  I  well  remember  the  remark  of  a  Fool, 
though  a  fashionable  party  man,  at  the  time,  that  it  was  by  no 
means  '  fashionable'  to  visit  Dr.  Franklin.  .  .  .  My  husband 
was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  him  very  often,  and  in  his  last  ill- 
ness frequently  watched  with  him  and  spent  many  hours  by 
his  bedside,  and,  finally,  was  one  of  those  who,  in  compliance 
with  our  ancient  usages,  assisted  to  bear  the  corpse  of  this 
eminent  man  to  the  place  of  interment,  the  city  watchmen 
who  were  in  attendance  being  set  aside  in  favor  of  a   still 
more  primitive  custom,  and  their  places  supplied  by  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  citizens."    In  these  and  other  mentions 
of  Franklin  Mrs.  Logan  shows  delicacy  and  magnanimity,  as 
in  the  posthumous  publication  of  his  works  the  community 
was   surprised  by  most  unwelcome  censure   of  the   conduct 
of  James  Logan  in  his  management  of  the  colony.     Her  only 
reference  to  this,  after  paying  a  tribute  to   his   genius,  is  to 
say,  "  What  a  pity  there    should  have  been  any  '  Errata'  in 
his  moral  conduct !     What  a  pity  he  should  have  stooped  to 
dishonor  his  pen  by  the  false  statements  and  glosses  of  the 
'  Critical  Review  of  the  Government  of  Pennsylvania' !"     It  is 
so  customary  to  carry  personal  hostility  into  politics,  to  debase 
differences  of  opinion  into  quarrels,  to  resent  strictures  upon 
one's  public  conduct  or  that  of  a  kinsman  as  an  attack  and 
affront,  and  to  drag  such  grievances  before  the  world,  that  this 
moderation  is  the  more  admirable,  especially  with  the  ven- 
eration in  which  Mrs.  Logan  held  her  husband  and  his  family. 
Timothy  Pickering  was  another  striking  figure  in  the  group 
which  gathered  beneath  the  hemlocks  or  around  the  hearth- 
stone of  Stenton.     Among  them  was  the  amiable  and  accom- 
plished Robert  Walsh,  whose  house,  graced  by  a  large  family 
of  beautiful,  brilliant  daughters,  and  sons  of  unusual  prom- 
ise, was   in  later  days  one  of  the  most  delightful  centres  of 
society  in   Philadelphia,— one  of  the   few  where   talent  and 


300 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


acquirements  were  at  a  premium:  he  was  editor  of  the 
National  Gazette,  and  Mrs.  Logan's  verses,  published  anony- 
mously, find  a  place  in  its  columns  near  extracts  from  Lord 
Byron's  last  tragedy  or  poem.  But  the  visitor  named  with 
most  pride  is  "  The  Father  of  his  Country,  then  in  Philadel- 
phia officiating  as  President  of  the  Federal  Convention.  He 
came  with  his  friend  Daniel  Jenifer,  Esq.,  of  Maryland,  who 
had  often  before  been  with  us,  and  passed  a  day  at  Stenton  in 
the  most  social  and  friendly  manner  imaginable,  delighted 
with  the  fine  grass-land  and  beautiful  improvements.  .  .  .  His 
praise  conferred  distinction.  Nor  did  he  make  me  less  happy 
by  his  pleasing  attention  to  myself  and  his  kind  notice  of  my 
children,  whom  he  caressed  in  the  most  endearing  manner, 
placing  my  little  boy  on  his  knee  and  taking  my  infant  in  his 
arms  with  commendations  that  made  their  way  immediately 
to  a  mother's  heart."  What  a  pretty  picture !  For  a  back- 
ground the  fine  old  house  and  great  dark  evergreens ;  the 
handsome,  stately  figure  of  Washington,  the  childless  man 
whose  heart  ever  warmed  to  childhood,  with  the  lovely  babies 
upon  his  knees  ;  the  young  matron  in  the  bloom  of  her  beauty 
losing  all  recollection  of  herself  in  her  pride  as  a  mother.  In- 
deed, Mrs.  Logan's  modesty  is  so  thorough  that  it  evidently 
never  once  occurred  to  her  that  her  own  attractions  of  person 
and  mind  had  any  share  in  drawing  so  many  remarkable  men 
to  Stenton;  though  it  is  impossible  for  her  readers  not  to  sus- 
pect that  they  must  have  been  strong  ingredients  in  the  uni- 
versally recognized  charm  of  the  place.  When  her  husband 
is  at  home,  they  come  for  his  society  and  conversation  ;  in  his 
absence,  to  show  their  respect  for  him.  This  was  not  General 
Washington's  first  sight  of  Stenton :  he  had  stopped  there  for 
a  few  hours  with  his  staff  and  suite  in  August,  1777,  one  of 
the  dreariest  periods  of  the  war.  The  house  was  not  occu- 
pied by  the  family  at  that  moment,  although  a  member  of  it 
chanced  to  be  there.  The  aide-de-camp  and  guard,  preceding 
the  commander-in-chief  by  a  few  hours,  had  bought  a  sheep 
of  the  tenant,  which  had  been  immediately  killed  and  dressed. 
The  silence  and  preoccupation  of  the  general  and  his  whole 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


301 


party  impressed  their  chance  host  as  much  as  their  considera- 
tion and  courtesy.  General  Washington  recalled  the  gloom 
and  uncertainty  of  that  other  summer's  day  during  the  pleas- 
ant hours  he  afterwards  spent  under  the  same  roof.  A  few 
years  later,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Logan  were  in  their  turn  guests  at 
Mount  Vernon,  and  there  is  a  lively  account  of  the  visit  in 
the  diary.  On  their  arrival  the  general  was  going  over  his 
farm  with  some  friends,  and  they  were  welcomed  by  Colonel 
Humphreys  and  Mrs.  Washington,  "who  was  exceedingly, 
amiable  and  affable,  and  received  us  with  great  politeness." 
Before  the  return  of  the  party  from  the  fields,  another  guest 
arrived,  a  Frenchman  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  who  was 
asked  to  stay  to  dinner.  This  gentleman,  whoever  he  may 
have  been,  was  of  the  grinning,  grimacing,  gesticulating  type 
common  in  old-fashioned  caricatures,  more  like  a  fop  in  a 
comedy  than  a  personage  of  real  life,  says  Mrs.  Logan.  He 
spoke  very  little  English,  but  made  up  the  deficiency  with 
bows  and  obeisances.  When  the  general  and  his  friends  came 
in,  introductions  took  place,  and  there  was  some  confusion,  in 
which  he  did  not  catch  Mrs.  Logan's  name  nor  recognize  her 
in  her  riding-dress,  so  that  he  presently  asked  her  some  ques- 
tion about  the  length  of  her  stay  in  America,  betraying  that 
he  supposed  her  the  wife  of  the  Gallic  visitor.  "Eager  to 
repel  the  idea,  I  stood  up,  and,  looking  imploringly  at  the 
general,  said,  '  I  am  an  American,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Logan.'  He 
arose,  and  welcomed  me  with  the  blandest  courtesy.  .  .  . 
Soon  after  the  cloth  was  removed,  the  French  gentleman  took 
his  leave,  with  much  gesticulation  and  ceremony.  After  he 
was  gone,  the  general  arose,  and  going  to  the  door  ascertained 
that  he  had  departed.  He  then  smilingly  addressed  me  and 
said,  '  Can  you  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Logan,  for  supposing  that 
you  belonged  to  that  man  ?  I  am  astonished  that  I  could 
have  done  it  for  an  instant.'  "  On  their  homeward  journey 
they  called,  in  passing  through  Fredericksburg,  upon  General 
Washington's  mother.  "  She  received  us  with  great  kindness 
in  her  humble,  decayed-looking  dwelling,  within  which  she 
appeared  to  have  things  comfortable.     She  was  quite  old,  but 


3o2       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

of  a  fine,  majestic  presence  and  polite  manners,  and  the  gen- 
eral so  much  resembling  her  that  she  might  be  known  for  his 
mother.  She  did  not  live  apart  for  want  of  an  invitation  to 
live  with  him  at  Mount  Vernon,  as  both  himself  and  Mrs.  W. 
informed  us,  but  she  preferred  her  humbler  home.  She  spoke 
of  his  kindness,  and  of  her  hope  that  things  would  continue 
to  go  well  with  him,  but  not  the  least  exultation  was  apparent 
in  having  such  a  son.  .  .  .  For  the  general  himself,  never  did 
I  feel  such  veneration  and  respect  for  any  one  clothed  with 
mortality  as  I  felt  for  his  person  and  character." 

Dr.  Logan's  most  intimate  friend  among  the  celebrated 
men  of  America  was  the  statesman  whose  aims  and  princi- 
ples are  the  standing  enigma  and  stumbling-block  of  his 
countrymen, — Thomas  Jefferson.  The  acquaintance  began 
when  he  took  up  his  abode  in  Philadelphia  as  Secretary  of 
State,  and  long  after  his  retirement  from  public  life  they  kept 
up  their  intercourse  by  letter.  He  was  constantly  at  Stenton 
during  the  years  when  he  lived  in  Philadelphia,  and  his  visits 
were  repeated  from  time  to  time  after  he  left  there.  "  His 
conversation,"  we  find  in  the  memoir,  "  was  very  pleasing. 
He  had  resided  at  the  court  of  France,  and  upon  his  return 
appeared  in  somewhat  of  its  costume,  and  wore  a  suit  of  silk, 
ruffles,  and  an  elegant  topaz  ring ;  but  he  soon  assimilated 
himself  to  a  more  republican  garb,  and  was  reproached  with 
going  to  the  other  extreme  as  a  bait  for  popularity.  He 
abounded  in  anecdotes  of  great  interest,  and  it  appeared  to 
me  that  he  did  not  often  suffer  political  prejudice  or  party 
spirit  to  warp  his  judgment  and  cause  him  to  misrepresent 
men  and  things ;  yet  I  saw  that  he  wanted  sincerity  towards 
General  Washington,  whom  I  had  always  revered  and  could 
not  bear  to  hear  mentioned  in  terms  that  implied  the  smallest 
diminution  of  his  character  or  qualities.  ...  I  have  often  had 
to  regret  that  I  did  not  at  the  time  so  fully  appreciate  the  ad- 
vantages which  I  have  frequently  enjoyed  of  listening  to  the 
conversation  of  very  eminent  and  highly-gifted  men,  and  no- 
ticing the  profound  and  instructive  remarks  which  have  often 
been  made  in  my  hearing,  which,  however,  soon  fade  from  the 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


503 


memory  unless  committed  to  writing.  But  I  have  not  forgot- 
ten the  force  and  expansion  of  Jefferson's  arguments,  deliv- 
ered in  a  beautiful  simplicity  of  language,  and  a  politeness  of 
manner  that  disarmed  offence,  yet  with  a  strength  that  defied 
refutation  when  Reason  was  admitted  to  sit  as  judge."  She 
was  often  present  at  confidential  conversations  between  Jeffer- 
son and  other  members  of  the  government  and  foreign  minis- 
ters, at  the  time  when  his  Gallomania  had  made  him  an  object 
of  odium  to  a  large  class  of  his  countrymen.  Mrs.  Logan  does 
not  deny  his  enthusiasm  for  the  principles  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, which  her  husband  shared,  while  she,  with  a  little  shake 
of  the  head,  internally  demurs  to  "  the  fitness  of  France  to 
assume  the  cap  and  mantle  of  liberty,"  and  thinks  them 
"  greatly  mistaken  in  their  opinion ;"  but  she  maintains  stead- 
fastly that  Jefferson  never,  in  moments  of  the  utmost  intimacy 
or  excitement,  admitted  any  proposition  or  idea  opposed  to 
the  rights  and  interests  of  his  own  country,  but  vehemently 
upheld  them.  "  One  of  these  conversations,  I  remember,  ended 
with  Genet's  rising  from  his  chair,  where  he  had  been  seated 
under  the  venerable  trees  that  surround  our  dwelling,  and,  baf- 
fled in  argument,  but  retaining  his  good  humor  and  gentle- 
manly demeanor,  he  exclaimed,  in  his  (then)  imperfect  English, 
'  Well,  gentlemen,  if  my  country  were  once  happily  settled  in 
peace  and  the  enjoyment  of  her  rights,  as  yours  is  now,  I  would 
sit  under  my  own  vine  and  trees  as  you  do,  but  I  would  dis- 
claim political  disquisitions  altogether;  I  would  never  suffer  a 
gazette  to  enter  my  house.'  ...  I  remember  to  have  heard 
Jefferson  say  that  he  greatly  valued  Mrs.  Adams  as  a  most  sen- 
sible and  prudent  woman,  and  he  added  that  he  had  a  file  of 
her  letters  which  he  much  valued.  The  occasion  of  their  cor- 
respondence was  the  communication  which  her  husband  and 
himself  kept  up  when  on  their  respective  missions  to  England 
and  France.  Mrs.  Adams  wrote  for  her  husband,  and  fur- 
nished the  most  valuable  information  (Jefferson  said)  that  he 
received."  Jefferson  had  the  highest  regard  for  his  Quaker 
hostess,  too,  which  in  her  modesty  she  either  did  not  know 
or  would  not  mention.     When  the  transfer  of  the  seat  of  gov- 


304 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


ernment  to  Washington  put  an  end  to  his  visits  to  Philadel- 
phia, and  later  still,  when  he  had  withdrawn  from  public  life 
to  his  own  beloved  country  home,  in  his  letters  to  his  old 
friend  he  never  fails  to  send  "  affectionate  remembrances  to 
his  dear  Mrs.  Logan." 

Dr.  Logan  himself  first  went  into  public  life  at  this  period 
as  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature,  and  his  wife  describes 
the  conscientiousness  and  assiduity  with  which  he  then  turned 
his  attention  to  the  study  of  politics,  reading  the  works  of 
English  and  French  statesmen,  and  pondering  deeply  the 
problems  which  the  condition  of  his  own  country  presented. 
There  is  nothing  in  this  whole  picture  of  habits  and  uses  so 
far  removed  from  those  of  the  present  day  as  the  image  of  a 
member  of  the  Pennsylvania  Legislature  immersed  in  the  study 
of  what  concerns  the  common  weal.  Where  were  his  railroad 
and  mining  bonds?  What  time  could  he  give  to  the  quota- 
tions of  the  Stock  Exchange?  When  did  he  book  himself  on 
the  last  whisky  dodge  ?  How  was  he  ready  to  snap  up  the  fat- 
test cuts  in  a  contract  ?  What  a  laughable  and  pitiable  figure 
he  would  make  now  at  Harrisburg,  where  they  know  tricks 
worth  a  thousand  of  that !  Yet  not  in  those  days  any  more 
than  in  these  were  disinterestedness  and  patriotism  the  gen- 
eral rule,  although  baseness  and  venality  did  not  show  their 
heads  in  such  high  places  nor  expose  their  tracks  with  such 
gross  contempt  of  common  decency.  Men  were  not  charged 
then  with  being  bought  or  sold,  or  with  having  stolen  public 
property.  They  mutually  accused  each  other  of  being  enemies 
to  their  country,  and  hated  and  execrated  one  another  accord- 
ingly, and  were  held  up  to  the  hatred  and  execration  of  con- 
tending parties.  Mrs.  Logan,  who  was  at  every  age  keenly 
interested  in  public  events,  describes  the  rage,  which  was  not 
all  ignoble,  by  which  the  community  was  possessed.  "  The 
dominant  party  scorned  any  longer  to  affect  even  the  appear- 
ance of  moderation  towards  their  opponents ;  not  only  the 
public  acts  of  the  Legislature  were  framed  to  keep  them  in 
awe,  but  in  the  common  offices  and  affairs  of  life  they 
were  proscribed,  friendships  were   dissolved,  tradesmen  dis- 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  305 

missed,  and  custom  withdrawn  from  the  Republican  party,  the 
heads  of  which,  as  objects  of  the  most  injurious  suspicion, 
were  recommended  to  be  closely  watched,  and  committees  of 
Federalists  appointed  for  that  purpose.  Many  gentlemen  went 
armed,  that  they  might  be  ready  to  resent  any  personal  ag- 
gression," Dr.  Logan  had  become  very  unpopular  from  his 
intimacy  with  Jefferson,  his  liberal  principles,  and  his  sup- 
posed predilection  for  France :  he  gradually  came  to  be  an 
object  of  suspicion  and  obloquy,  and  was  actually  put  under 
surveillance.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  formed  a  project 
which  excited  great  commotion  when  he  carried  it  out, 
although  now  one  cannot  look  at  it  from  either  side  without 
a  smile  and  an  involuntary  recollection  of  proverbs  about 
tempests  in  teapots  and  parturient  mountains.  Mrs.  Logan, 
notwithstanding  her  full  and  fervent  faith  in  her  husband's 
weight  and  wisdom,  admits  that  the  scheme  appeared  to  her 
"  romantic ;"  but  her  memoir  tells  the  story  best.  "  In  the 
midst  of  this  state  of  things  my  husband  formed  the  project 
of  his  visit  to  France  with  what  then  appeared  to  me  the  ro- 
mantic idea  of  persuading  the  rulers  of  the  desultorious  [sic] 
government  to  alter  the  tone  of  their  conduct  towards  the 
United  States.  He  thought  they  were  not  aware  of  our  grow- 
ing importance,  and  that  the  rashness  and  injustice  of  their 
measures  towards  us  would  be  the  means  of  uniting  us  with 
Great  Britain  and  forwarding  the  views  of  the  enemies  of  all 
republics."  Dr.  Logan  undertook  this  step  with  so  grave  a 
sense  of  the  possible  consequences  from  the  Violence  of  the 
Federal  party  that  he  gave  his  wife  a  power  of  attorney  by 
which  she  might  on  emergency  so  dispose  of  his  estate  as 
to  secure  it  from  confiscation :  this  paper  was  acknowledged 
before  the  chief  justice,  subsequently  Governor  McKean,  and 
Dr.  Logan  explained  his  motives  and  intentions.  "  Thank  God 
that  we  possess  one  man  who  is  capable  and  devoted  enough 
to  undertake  this  task  !"  exclaimed  the  impetuous,  imperious 
old  magistrate.  "  You  have  my  best  wishes  in  the  enterprise." 
And  he  drank  to  the  success  of  the  journey.  Dr.  Logan  sold 
some  property  to  raise  funds  for  his  voyage,  and  sailed  for 


306      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

Hamburg  on  the  13th  of  June,  1798.     He  had  a  certificate 
of  citizenship  from  Governor  McKean,  a  letter  of  indorsement 
from  Jefferson,  and  introductions  to  Citizen  Merlin,  then  at 
the  head  of  the  French  government,  and  Talleyrand,  whom  he 
had   not  met  in  this   country.     These  credentials,  although 
unofficial,  were  of  the  utmost  importance  to  him  in  his  self- 
appointed  mission.     The  slow-sailing  craft  in  which  he  had 
embarked,  with  its  cautious  Dutch  captain,  arrived  safely  on 
the  23d  of  July,  after   stopping  for  a  few  hours  at  Dover, 
where  Dr.  Logan  was  very  much  struck  by  the  coast  de- 
fenses and  accumulation  of  forces  :  it  was  said  that  there  were 
over  three  thousand  in  garrison  at  the  castle.     On  landing  at 
Hamburg,  Dr.  Logan  found  extreme  difficulty,  as  a  citizen  of 
the  United  States,  in  getting  passports  for  France ;  but,  while 
he  was  struggling  with   opposition   and  obstacles,  he  heard 
that  the  Marquis  de  La  Fayette  was  living  in  the  neighborhood. 
He  immediately  sought  the  acquaintance  of  this  noblest  friend 
of  America,  and  laid  his  case  before  him.     La  Fayette  showed 
him  all  kindness,  hospitality,  and    sympathy,  and    procured 
him  a  passport,  by  means  of  which  he  reached  Paris  during 
August.     He  arrived  immediately  after  the  departure  of  El- 
bridge  Gerry,  the  last  of  our  commissioners,  who  had  with- 
drawn without  the  ratification  of  an  international  treaty ;  an 
embargo  had  just  been  laid  upon  our  shipping,  and  hundreds 
of  American  sailors  had  been  thrown  into  jail.     These  were 
discouraging  auspices  :  nevertheless  he  presented  his  letter  to 
Talleyrand,  and  endeavored  to  obtain  an  interview  with  Merlin. 
The    minister's    conduct  was   perfectly  consistent  with   the 
trickiness,  double-dealing,  polished   slipperiness,  and   affable 
astuteness  for  which  he  became  renowned  in  after-times.     He 
received  Dr.  Logan  with  civility,  wasted  his  time  with  promises, 
and  set  people  to  spy  and  sound  him.     Indignant  and  impa- 
tient, the  latter  sought  and  obtained  an  introduction  to  Merlin, 
through  M.  Schimmelpenninck,  the  Swiss  and  Bavarian  min- 
ister to  France.    Many  pages  of  the  memoir  are  devoted,  natu- 
rally, to  this  visit  to  Paris,  the  dinners  at  various  important 
houses,  including  Merlin's,  significant  incidents  which  befell 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  307 

there,  interviews  and  letters  between  Dr.  Logan  and  different 
members  of  the  French  government  to  whom  he  explained 
his  views  and  what  he  believed  to  be  the  wishes  and  demands 
of  the  American  people.  He  there  fell  in  again  with  Kos- 
ciusko, grateful  for  the  kindness  he  had  met  with  in  America 
and  anxious  to  repay  it  by  any  service  in  his  power.  Dr. 
Logan  was  certainly  successful  in  obtaining  the  raising  of  the 
embargo  and  release  of  the  imprisoned  seamen,  which  was  the 
first  step  to  a  peaceable  understanding.  The  captains  of  the 
liberated  vessels  at  Bordeaux,  nearly  twenty  in  number,  drew 
up  a  testimonial  expressing  their  grateful  sense  of  his  actual 
services  and  their  trust  that  he  had  prevented  a  war  between 
the  two  countries.  With  this  satisfactory  if  not  complete 
result  of  his  endeavors  he  took  passage  for  home  on  the  Per- 
severance, Captain  Gideon  Gardner,  of  Nantucket,  to  sail  from 
Bordeaux.  On  his  way  down  from  Paris  he  was  perturbed  by 
encountering  stages  full  of  Frenchmen  just  arrived  from  the 
United  States,  where  they  had  been  imprisoned  and  ill  used, 
and  who  were  so  clamorous  for  revenge  that  Dr.  Logan  trem- 
bled lest  the  Directory,  depending  on  popularity,  might  be 
driven  to  revoke  the  favorable  measures  he  had  just  brought 
about.  However,  nothing  came  of  it,  and  with  a  light  heart 
he  weighed  anchor  for  home. 

Meanwhile,  the  news  of  his  having  openly  outwitted  his 
enemies  by  sailing  away  from  Philadelphia  under  their  eyes 
had  raised  a  storm  of  fury  at  home.  Jefferson  and  McKean 
were  assailed  with  abuse  and  reproach  by  the  press  for  having 
given  him  letters,  as  the  majority  would  believe  nothing  less 
than  that  he  had  gone  abroad  in  the  interest  of  France  to  fur- 
nish information  to  the  detriment  of  his  own  country.  So  fixed 
was  this  conviction  that  somebody  whom  Mrs.  Logan  calls  "a 
ffriendly  Fcederalist"  warned  her  that  the  government  in- 
tended searching  Stenton  for  treasonable  papers,  advising  her 
to  destroy  anything  that  might  compromise  him.  "  I  thanked 
the  gentleman,  but  assured  him  that  in  case  of  a  search  they 
would  only  have  to  regret  that  they  had  insulted  a  man  of 
honor  in  his  absence.     I  had  nothing  to  secrete."     The  fol- 


308      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

lowing  preposterous  article  appeared  in  Brown's  PJuladelphia 
Gazette  : 

"  We  are  assured  from  the  best  authority  that  Dr.  Logan  (a 
noted  and  violent  Democrat)  departed  from  this  city  on  Wed- 
nesday or  Thursday  last,  in  the  ship  Iris,  for  Hamburg,  on 
his  route  to  Paris.  There  cannot  be  the  least  question  but 
the  doctor,  from  his  inordinate  love  of  French  Liberty  and 
hatred  to  the  Sacred  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  has 
gone  to  the  French  Directory  fraught  with  intelligence  of  the 
most  dangerous  tendency  to  this  country.  .  .  .  Can  any  sen- 
sible man  hesitate  to  suspect  that  his  infernal  design  can  be 
anything  less  than  the  introduction  of  a  French  army  to  teach 
us  the  value  of  true  and  essential  Liberty  by  reorganizing  our 
government  through  the  blessed  operation  of  the  bayonet  and 
the  guillotine  ?  Let  every  American  now  gird  on  his  sword. 
The  times  are  not  only  critical,  but  the  secret  of  the  junto  is 
out.  Their  demagogue  is  gone  to  the  Directory  for  purposes 
of  destruction  to  your  lives,  property,  liberty,  and  holy  re- 
ligion." 

What  his  wife's  feelings  and  sufferings  must  have  been 
it  is  easy  to  guess.  She  hardly  speaks  of  them  in  the  me- 
moir, and  her  reticence  is  very  touching.  "  Were  it  proper 
here  to  speak  of  myself,  I  could  say  a  great  deal  with  the 
strictest  truth  of  the  infinite  anxiety  of  mind  which  I  under- 
went at  this  period.  .  .  .  Although  I  knew  the  purity  of  my 
husband's  principles,  and  could  appreciate  the  motives  upon 
which  he  acted,  yet  when  the  time  drew  near  for  him  to 
leave  me  I  could  not  help  being  appalled  with  a  sense  of  the 
difficulties  which  he  would  have  to  surmount,  and  the  clamor 
which  would  be  raised  upon  his  departure ;  so  that  when  he 
left  me  indeed,  I  was  as  completely  miserable  as  I  could  be 
while  innocent  myself  and  united  to  a  man  whose  honor  I 
knew  to  be  without  a  stain.  ...  I  was  frequently  a  prey  to 
the  most  harrowing  inquietudes."  The  Alien  and  Sedition 
Act  had  just  been  passed,  and  Mrs.  Logan  was  in  agony  lest 
by  any  imprudence  her  husband  should  lay  himself  open  to 
the  charge  of  treason  by  the  letter  of  this  law.     She  was  con- 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


309 


sumed  with  anxiety  to  apprise  him  of  it  and  put  him  on  his 
guard,  but  had  no  direct  means  of  communication  with  him  : 
she  sent  two  letters  by  roundabout  ways,  and,  apparently,  heard 
from  him  but  once  or  twice  during  his  absence.  Her  mother 
and  family  gathered  about  her,  to  console  and  cheer  her: 
she  speaks  of  the  kindness  of  friends  and  neighbors,  Dr. 
Samuel  Betton,  Sr.,  Major  Pierce  Butler,  of  Butler  Place,  the 
Fishers,  of  Wakefield,  already  her  connections  by  marriage, 
and,  what  was  still  more  deeply  felt,  the  sympathy  of  old  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Federal  party,  among  whom  she  mentions 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederick  Augustus  Smyth  "  and  the  be- 
nevolent John  Vaughan."  The  friendliness  which  no  doubt 
seemed  but  a  slight  tribute  of  respect  to  those  who  paid  it 
sank  deep  into  her  heart,  for  she  was  told  that  whoever  was 
seen  to  enter  her  gates  would  be  marked.  That  there  was 
no  exaggeration  in  this  may  be  seen  by  the  following  account 
of  a  visit  from  Jefferson,  then  Vice-President,  who,  on  the  point 
of  starting  for  Monticello  when  he  heard  the  outcry  raised  on 
Dr.  Logan's  departure,  put  off  his  journey  a  week,  "  to  see 
what  they  would  make  of  their  conspiracy,"  as  he  said.  "  He 
told  me  he  had  been  greatly  concerned  for  me  on  account  of 
the  obloquy  and  abuse  which  had  been  freely  bestowed  on 
Dr.  Logan's  character,  and  advised  me  to  evince  my  thorough 
consciousness  of  his  innocence  and  honor  by  showing  myself 
in  Philadelphia  as  one  not  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  meet  the 
public  eye.  He  said  that  he  could  not  have  believed  it  pos- 
sible that  the  utmost  bitterness  of  party  spirit  could  have  in- 
vented or  have  given  credit  to  such  unfounded  calumnies  ;  that 
he  was  himself  dogged  and  watched  in  the  most  extraordinary 
manner ;  and  he  apologized  for  the  lateness  of  his  visit  (for 
we  were  at  tea  when  he  arrived)  by  saying  that  in  order 
to  elude  the  curiosity  of  his  spies  he  had  not  taken  the  direct 
road,  but  had  come  by  a  circuitous  route  by  the  Falls  of 
Schuylkill  along  one  of  the  lanes  to  Germantown,  and,  passing 
by  the  house  and  gates,  had  come  in  by  the  entrance  on  the 
York  Road."  (A  detour  of  five  or  six  miles.)  "He  spoke  of 
the  temper  of  the  times  and  of  the  late  acts  of  the  Legislature 


3io 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


with  a  sort  of  despair,  but  said  he  thought  even  the  shadow 
of  our  liberties  must  be  gone  if  they  attempted  anything  that 
would  injure  me."  The  brave  woman  soon  followed  his  ad- 
vice by  going  to  town,  where  without  flinching  she  ran  the 
gauntlet  of  cold  looks,  rude  remarks,  expressions  of  surprise 
that  she  could  seem  gay  and  cheerful,  or  that  she  would  be 
seen  at  all.  But  she  was  not  daunted,  and  continued  to  go 
out  and  pay  visits  to  her  friends  as  if  her  life  were  flowing 
with  its  former  even  tenor.  One  afternoon  she  was  calling  at 
Roxborough,  "at  the  seat  of  our  worthy  ffriend  ex-Chief-Jus- 
tice Smyth  ;  he  was  an  Englishman  and  a  Tory  who  had  held 
an  office  under  the  Crown  during  the  Colonial  government, 
but  he  was  a  man  of  great  honor,  candor,  and  goodness,  and 
tho'  they  differed  in  politics,  had  a  sincere  friendship  for  my 
husband.  Here  I  found  as  usual  a  large  circle  of  company, 
amongst  whom  was  George  Clymer,  Thomas  Fitz-Simmons, 
and  several  other  Fcederal  gentlemen.  I  observed  that  they 
talked  together  with  much  earnestness ;  and  at  length  one  of 
them  (Fitz-Simmons)  came  to  me  and  inquired,  if  he  might  ask 
me,  had  I  received  letters  from  Dr.  Logan?  and  if  so,  what, 
was  the  state  of  things  in  France  ?  I  told  him  briefly  and 
modestly  what  I  had  heard  ;  that  the  embargo  was  raised, 
our  seamen  liberated  and  returning  in  our  vessels,  and  a  dis- 
position for  peace  manifested  on  the  part  of  France.  (But 
I  imputed  nothing  to  the  exertions  of  my  husband.)  He  re- 
plied, that  it  was  extraordinary  news  indeed,  and  he  sincerely 
congratulated  me  upon  it.  And  our  kind  neighbor  the  judge 
exulting  exclaimed,  '  You  know,  gentlemen,  I  have  always 
said  that  Dr.  Logan  would  never  disgrace  himself  nor  injure 
his  country !'" 

Her  quiet  attempts  to  put  her  husband's  conduct  in  its  true 
light  were  not  generally  so  successful.  She  sent  an  extract 
from  one  of  his  letters  to  the  Philadelphia  Gazette,  with  a  fuller 
account  of  the  circumstances  of  which  she  had  given  the  party 
at  Judge  Smyth's  a  synopsis  :  it  was  published  with  a  sneer- 
ing comment  by  the  editor,  wresting  it  from  its  evident  pur- 
port to  a  confirmation  of  public  suspicion,  though  he  is  forced 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


311 


to  lower  his  tone  from  talking  of  a  French  army  and  the  bay- 
onet and  guillotine,  to  "  a  train  of  French  diplomatic  para- 
phernalia" and  "  delusive  hopes  of  French  justice."  Cobbett 
recommended  that  in  case  of  Dr.  Logan's  return  (which  was 
generally  doubted)  he  should  be  put  in  the  pillory,  and  his 
wife  with  him. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  cruel  anxieties  and  humiliations 
that  Mrs.  Logan  had  a  new  and  terrible  cause  for  alarm :  the 
yellow  fever  broke  out  in  Philadelphia  and  spread  over  the 
whole  region  with  horrible  rapidity.  Mrs.  Logan's  aged 
mother,  Mrs.  Norris,  who  had  now  for  years  lived  in  her 
early  home  of  Chester,  had  gone  back  thither  after  her  visit 
of  sympathy  to  her  daughter;  but,  as  the  pestilence  raged 
there  with  extraordinary  virulence,  she  was  persuaded  to  re- 
turn to  the  purer  air  of  Stenton.  Her  eldest  son  came  with 
her,  and  other  members  of  the  Norris  and  Logan  families, 
with  their  servants,  sought  refuge  there  from  the  plague- 
stricken  city,  so  that  Mrs.  Logan  had  more  than  twenty  people 
under  her  roof  daily  to  provide  for.  "  But  this  was  better  for 
me  than  to  be  left  in  solitude."  It  is  difficult  for  us  to  imagine 
the  condition  of  Philadelphia  that  autumn :  all  communica- 
tion from  without  was  forbidden ;  a  cordon  saiiitairc  was  es- 
tablished round  the  city,  on  which  a  palpable  curse  seemed 
to  rest.  I  have  heard  an  old  gentleman  of  Germantown  de- 
scribe his  walking  to  town — which  did  not  then  extend  beyond 
the  Northern  Liberties — with  a  young  comrade,  as  a  sort  of 
dare-devil  escapade ;  but  when  they  saw  the  silent  and  empty 
streets  barred  from  approach,  a  sort  of  awe  fell  upon  them,  as 
if  the  form  of  the  destroyer  might  be  met  stalking  amid  the 
desolation,  and  they  turned  back  to  their  fields  and  lanes. 
Mrs.  Logan's  eldest  brother  was  laid  low  with  the  disease 
directly  after  his  arrival,  and  a  period  of  intense  dread  fol- 
lowed ;  but  by  careful  nursing  he  surmounted  it,  and  the 
contagion  did  not  spread  to  the  household.  The  first  frosts 
checked  the  course  of  the  epidemic,  which  disappeared  as 
mysteriously  as  it  had  come,  and  people  returned  to  their 
homes,  many,  many  of  which,  alas!  were  left  to  them  desolate. 


312 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


Mrs.  Logan's  family  scattered  in  their  various  directions, 
leaving  her  torn  by  the  most  opposite  emotions.  The  autumn 
was  advancing,  and  she  was  in  daily  expectation  of  her  hus- 
band's return  ;  but  the  joy  with  which  she  looked  forward  to 
their  reunion  was  poisoned  by  her  fears  for  what  might  ensue, 
as  she  believed  that  he  would  be  thrown  into  prison  as  soon 
as  he  arrived ;  moreover,  she  heard  that  two  vessels  called  the 
Perseverance  were  to  sail  from  Bordeaux  on  the  same  day, 
one  new  and  seaworthy,  the  other  old  and  unsafe,  and  she 
had  no  means  of  knowing  in  which  her  husband  would  em- 
bark. Strange  to  say,  both  vessels  came  up  the  Delaware  on 
the  same  day.  Rumors  of  their  arrival  reached  Stenton. 
Mrs.  Logan  received  messages  and  visits  of  congratulation, 
but  still  the  day  wore  on,  and  she  was  in  suspense.  "  My 
sons,  who  were  young  mountaineers  in  their  fearless  habits 
and  love  of  the  chase,  had  that  morning  taken  out  their  favor- 
ite spaniel,  and  by  accident  had  wounded  her.  She  was 
brought  to  me  to  be  nursed,  and  was  accommodated  with  a 
cushion  near  the  fire.  My  youngest  boy  was  put  to  bed,  and 
the  others  were  reading  with  me  in  the  dining-room,  when  a 
step  was  heard  on  the  piazza.  The  wounded  animal  raised 
herself,  and,  instinctively  knowing  the  sound,  strove  to  get  to 
the  door.  It  opened,  and  in  a  moment  the  restored  husband, 
father,  friend,  and  master  found  himself  in  the  bosom  of  his 
happy  family,  for  our  affectionate  old  Dinah,*  who  had  like- 
wise taken  care  of  him  in  his  infancy,  hearing  the  joyful  ex- 
clamations, had  brought  Algernon  from  his  bed  to  share  in 
his  father's  caresses,  and,  herself  embracing  his  knees,  blessed 
God  that  she  had  lived  to  witness  his  return  !" 

This  happy  meeting  took  place  in  November,  1798.  Con- 
gress was  about  to  assemble  at  Trenton,  Philadelphia  still 
being  considered  unsafe  in  consequence  of  the  recent  pesti- 
lence. The  President  was  already  there,  and  the  heads  of  the 
departments  were  on  their  way.     Dr.  Logan  immediately  pre- 


*  The  servant  whose  presence  of  mind  saved  Stenton  from  being  fired  by  the 
British.     She  is  buried  in  the  family  grave-yard. 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


3*3 


sented  himself  at  the  seat  of  government  to  report  himself,  and 
exhibit  his  papers,  if  it  should  be  thought  worth  while  to  ex- 
amine them.  On  his  way  he  fell  in  with  his  old  friend  General 
C.  C.  Pinckney  and  his  family,  who  were  very  glad  to  see  him, 
and  they  all  breakfasted  together  at  an  inn,  where  others 
bound  in  the  same  direction  had  halted.  There  was  some 
surprise  manifested  on  seeing  his  cordial  terms  with  these 
high-toned  Southerners.  A  great  many  people  expressed 
their  astonishment  on  seeing  him  at  large  ;  but  a  revulsion  in 
public  feeling  had  begun,  and  he  met  with  tokens  of  good 
will  on  all  sides:  an  inn-keeper  who  furnished  him  with  a 
horse  and  gig  refused  to  be  paid  for  it.  He  was  received  with 
courteous  coolness  by  the  President,  who  did  not  approve  of 
self-appointed  envoys,  and  other  members  of  the  government 
intimated  disapprobation  of  his  course.  Congress  on  assem- 
bling passed  a  law  providing  against  such  cases  in  future, 
wdiich  was  popularly  known  as  Logan's  law.  But  there  were 
no  reflections  on  his  probity  or  patriotism,  and  he  himself  was 
too  profoundly  penetrated  with  satisfaction  at  what  he  had 
done  to  be  disturbed  by  superficial  annoyances.  As  the  at- 
tacks of  the  press  continued,  however,  Dr.  Logan  thought  it 
due  to  himself  and  his  family  to  meet  them  by  a  succinct 
account  of  his  journey  to  France,  its  motives  and  results,  pub- 
lished in  the  form  of  an  address  to  his  fellow-citizens.  The 
happiness  of  his  loyal  and  devoted  wife  on  his  return  was  pro- 
longed by  a  series  of  little  excursions  which  they  made  to- 
gether :  to  Chester,  to  see  her  mother ;  to  Wilmington,  Dela- 
ware, to  shake  hands  with  their  cousins  the  Dickinsons,  who 
had  been  among  her  kindest,  stanchest  friends  during  the 
trying  six  months  which  had  just  passed;  to  Morristown, 
New  Jersey,  where  Dr.  Logan  owned  property,  and  where  the 
leading  citizens  waited  upon  him  to  thank  him  for  his  services 
and  tender  him  a  public  dinner,  which,  however,  he  gratefully 
declined.  We  can  fancy  Mrs.  Logan's  exquisite  enjoyment  in 
these  short  journeys :  it  was  Indian-summer  time,  and  she  and 
her  husband  jaunted  about  the  smooth  high-roads  or  hedge- 
row lanes  beside  the  Delaware,  either  in  the  family  coach  or, 


314      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

what  she  would  have  liked  better,  with  a  horse  and  gig.  The 
fears,  separation,  and  sorrow  of  the  last  half-year  were  over, 
and  she  sat  secure  in  her  love,  trust,  and  pride  beside  the 
man  who  was  her  ideal  of  human  excellence.  But  her  inno- 
cent triumphs  were  not  to  end  in  the  private  recognition  of 
her  husband's  worth.  On  their  return  from  Morristown  he 
was  waited  upon  by  a  deputation  to  ask  him  if  he  would  ac- 
cept the  nomination  for  a  seat  in  the  State  Legislature,  just 
fallen  vacant.  He  was  out  at  the  time  of  the  visit,  and  the 
committee  requested  to  see  Mrs.  Logan  and  inquire  her  hus- 
band's mind  of  her  in  the  matter.  He  accepted,  and  was 
elected  by  a  large  majority,  the  first  Republican  victory,  ex- 
citing great  exultation  in  the  party.  The  Legislature  then 
sat  at  Lancaster;  and  he  formed  some  new  and  valued  friend- 
ships among  the  members,  chief  of  whom  was  "the  venerable 
I  Ienry  Muhlenberg."  Dr.  Logan  represented  the  agricultural 
interests  of  the  community,  and  carried  out  his  theories  con- 
sistently by  his  habit  of  wearing  homespun  clothes.  "  My 
heart  while  I  write,"  breaks  out  his  wife  in  the  memoir,  "  is 
sensibly  touched  with  the  recollection  of  these  minor  but 
most  endearing  traits  of  patriotism  and  regard  for  the  welfare 
and  comfort  of  all  classes  of  his  fellow-citizens." 

The  next  ten  years  of  Dr.  Logan's  life  were  given  up  to 
politics  :  at  the  expiration  of  his  two  years  in  the  State  Legis- 
lature he  was  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate,  and  re- 
mained through  the  Seventh  and  Eighth  Congresses,  from 
December,  1801,  until  March,  1807.  Jefferson's  change  of 
tactics  upon  his  election  to  the  White  House  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  the  Logans;  but  who  ever  saw  their  hero  raised 
to  the  eminence  which  their  enthusiasm  claimed  for  him  with- 
out some  after-reflections  on  the  vanity  of  human  expecta- 
tions ?  Dr.  Logan,  whose  friendship  with  the  President  was 
well  known,  was  besieged  by  applicants  for  office,  begging 
for  his  influence  in  their  behalf.  It  is  refreshing  to  read  of 
the  cool  stiffness  of  candidates  and  politicians  of  those  days 
who  did  not  subsist  on  the  fear  of  constituents  or  the  whims 
of  the  crowd.     Dr.   Logan  declined  signing  one  petition  in 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  315 

favor  of  the  bearer,  on  the  ground  that  he  did  not  know  the 
latter.  "  '  Oh,  sir,  that  is  of  no  consequence  :  you  know  the 
gentlemen  who  have  already  signed.'  'True,  sir;  but  I  do 
not  knowjw/,  and  therefore  you  must  excuse  me.'  The  peti- 
tioner went  away  in  a  very  bad  humor  at  his  fastidiousness  in 
being  determined  to  recommend  none  that  he  did  not  know." 
Mrs.  Logan  does  not  appear  to  have  accompanied  her  hus- 
band in  any  of  the  temporary  migrations  and  changes  of  abode 
which  were  necessitated  by  his  political  life.  There  is  no  al- 
lusion to  any  absence  from  Stenton,  where  home  duties  still 
bound  her  and  her  boys  were  growing  towards  manhood. 
Her  existence  among  its  tranquil  cares  and  pleasures  was 
broken  in  upon  by  two  heavy  sorrows.  At  the  close  of  the 
year  1799  she  lost  her  aged  mother,  who  had  ever  been  not 
only  an  honored  parent  but  a  beloved  and  sympathizing  friend. 
Mrs.  Logan  drew  a  little  sketch  of  her  mother's  life  and  char- 
acter for  the  benefit  of  her  descendants  which  gives  a  pleasant 
account  of  her  girlhood  in  Chester.  "  I  have  frequently  heard 
her  speak  of  the  ^happiness  of  her  early  life:  the  state  of  soci- 
ety, sociability,  kindness,  good  neighborhood  that  was  among 
them  seemed  to  realize  the  Golden  Age.  .  .  .  My  mother  was 
an  excellent  woman,  and  of  very  good  abilities;  she  had  re- 
ceived a  much  better  education  than  was  usually  bestowed  on 
daughters ;  when  she  was  young  her  mind  was  enriched  by 
an  acquaintance  with  the  best  authors ;  her  memory  was  un- 
commonly good,  her  disposition  cheerful,  and  her  conversation 
instructive  and  entertaining.  She  was  solid,  prudent,  affec- 
tionate, and  benevolent.  The  manner  in  which  she  conducted 
herself  after  the  decease  of  her  husband,  and  the  very  able 
manner  in  which  she  investigated  and  settled  his  affairs,  se- 
cured her  the  kindest  friendship  of  his  family  and  the  esteem 
and  applause  of  all  who  knew  her."  But  a  far  more  tragic 
grief  came  upon  her  the  next  year,  one  which  always  seems 
to  violate  the  appointed  order  of  nature,  and  therefore  to  carry 
an  excessive  and  intolerable  weight  in  its  blow :  her  son  Gus- 
tavus  died,  a  boy  of  such  uncommon  gifts  that  his  mother 
will  not  dwell  upon  them,  lest  "  her  pen  might  be  thought  to 


316      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

be  transformed  by  a  parent's  partiality  into  a  flattering  pencil." 
He  was  nearly  fourteen,  and  already  showed  great  maturity 
of  judgment  joined  with  courage,  generosity,  truthfulness,  and 
tenderness  of  heart ;  he  was,  too,  the  youthful  image  of  his 
father;  perhaps  her  favorite  child.  The  circle  of  early  friends, 
too,  now  began  to  lose  its  links.  The  death  of  John  Dickin- 
son, her  husband's  kinsman  and  intimate  friend,  was  deeply 
felt  by  them  both.  It  happened  about  the  same  time  that 
Dr.  Logan  withdrew  from  public  life,  declining  renomination 
to  the  Senate.  His  activity  in  behalf  of  his  country,  however, 
did  not  abate.  The  signs  of  the  times  were  already  pointing 
towards  troubles  which  ended  in  the  War  of  1812.  Encour- 
aged by  the  belief  that  he  had  been  formerly  instrumental  in 
averting  a  war  with  France,  Dr.  Logan  now  determined  on  a 
journey  to  England  for  a  similar  purpose,  despite  the  special 
legislation  of  which  he  had  been  the  object  on  the  previous 
occasion.  This  time,  indeed,  he  went  under  very  different 
auspices,  for  although,  as  before,  he  had  no  official  capacity, 
President  Madison  approved  of  the  undertaking,  and  sent  him 
warmly  recommended  to  our  minister  at  the  Court  of  St. 
Jameses.  The  minister  possibly  did  not  relish  the  arrival  of 
a  self-constituted  plenipotentiary,  whose  position  was  certainly 
anomalous,  and  did  nothing  to  further  Dr.  Logan's  views  and 
wishes.  Although  foiled  and  disappointed  in  the  object  of 
his  voyage,  his  visit  to  London  was  full  of  social  interest  and 
enjoyment:  he  was  received,  to  quote  the  words  of  one  of  his 
English  friends,  "  in  the  most  suitable  manner  by  the  first 
men  both  in  and  out  of  power."  Besides  seeing  such  as  re- 
mained of  his  boyhood's  friends,  the  Barclays,  etc.,  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  Sir  Samuel  Romilly, 
Sir  John  Sinclair,  Lord  Lansdowne,  Lord  Teignmouth,  the 
Duke  of  Bedford,  Clarkson,  Wilberforce,  Vansittart,  and  many 
others  connected  with  the  government,  among  the  rest  Arthur 
Marquis  of  Wellesley,  whose  note  asking  for  an  interview  is 
preserved  with  a  quantity  of  valuable  autograph  letters  re- 
ceived by  Dr.  Logan  at  the  same  time.  His  own  deep  con- 
cern on  the  question  of  negro  emancipation  must  have  lent  a 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  3^ 

keen  edge  to  his  pleasure  in  meeting  the  champions  of  the 
abolition  of  the  slave-trade.  He  also  indulged  his  ruling 
taste  by  attending  many  agricultural  meetings,  one  at  Woburn 
Abbey,  and  another  at  Holkham,  in  Norfolk,  the  seat  of  T. 
W.  Coke,  Esq.  At  many  of  these  the  warmest  feelings  were 
expressed  for  the  United  States,  and  the  heartiest  hopes  that 
the  friendly  intercourse  between  the  two  countries  might  not 
be  disturbed.  However,  when  Dr.  Logan  came  home,  near 
the  close  of  18 10,  matters  were  slowly  drawing  to  a  crisis. 

This  return  to  his  country  was  final.  He  never  left  it  again, 
nor  mixed  in  public  affairs,  though  so  actively  interested  in 
them  that  he  corresponded  constantly  with  many  leading 
men,  and  went  several  times  to  Washington,  still  in  hopes 
that  the  war  with  England  might  be  prevented.  It  was  a 
source  of  extreme  distress  to  both  himself  and  his  wife,  who 
says  that  their  emotions  "  could  be  compared  only  to  the  fear- 
ful state  of  watching  and  distress  which  we  feel  when  we  see 
a  beloved  individual  struggling  through  the  paroxysms  of  a 
fever."  To  describe  the  condition  of  the  public  mind  she  uses 
the  admirable  expression,  "  national  happiness  was  suspended." 
They  were  intensely  interested,  too,  in  European  politics,  fol- 
lowing the  career  of  Bonaparte  with  an  attention  and  excite- 
ment which  seem,  strangely  enough,  to  have  died  out  with 
the  days  of  tri-weekly  steamers  and  hourly  cable-dispatches. 
Suspense  is  now  limited  to  what  will  happen,  not  to  what  has 
happened,  and  events  known  as  soon  as  they  occur  impress 
the  imagination  less  than  when  they  have  been  speculated 
upon  for  a  month. 

After  the  peace  of  Ghent,  in  February,  181 5,  an  era  of  calm 
and  placid  enjoyment  opened  for  Mrs.  Logan,  which  must 
have  recalled  the  halcyon  days  of  her  early  married  life.  She 
had  passed  from  the  agitating  events  and  emotions  of  her 
youth  and  early  middle  age  across  the  boundary  of  elder  life, 
keeping  her  freshness  of  heart  and  brightness  of  mind  in  un- 
sullied transparency.  Her  husband's  health,  it  is  true,  was 
declining,  but  so  gradually  that  there  was  nothing  to  startle 
or  alarm  her,  and  they  pursued  the  alternation  of  peaceful 


3i8       WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

seasons  gladdened  by  all  the  cherished  pleasures.  Many  old 
friends  were  left  to  gather  as  of  yore  round  the  fireside  or 
under  the  hemlocks ;  strangers  of  note  still  came  to  bring 
variety  and  vivacity  into  the  tranquil  routine.  Peter  Dupon- 
ceau  was  a  frequent  visitor,  bringing  Mrs.  Logan  supplies  of 
books;  Dupont  de  Nemours,  who  had  shown  her  husband 
civility  and  kindness  on  his  memorable  visit  to  France,  came 
out  to  this  country  in  1 8 1 5,  and  Dr.  Logan  hastened  to  pay 
his  respects  to  him  at  Wilmington  and  invite  him  to  Stenton, 
whither  he  afterwards  came  ;  Colonel  Pickering,  too,  past  dif- 
ferences forgotten,  was  often  at  their  board ;  John  Randolph 
of  Roanoke  once  came  for  a  day  and  night,  impressing  his 
hostess  very  much. 

She  still  performed  her  part  in  her  neighborly  circle  with 
alacrity,  still  made  little  excursions  in  the  pleasant  autumn 
weather  to  see  friends  beyond  an  afternoon's  drive.  One  of 
these  was  Charles  Thomson,  known  by  his  contemporaries  as 
"  the  Man  of  Truth,"  her  life-long  friend,  he  whose  voice  her 
girlish  ears  had  fancied  they  recognized  in  the  reader  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  He  was  now  ninety  years  old, 
but  his  faculties  were  unimpaired.  She  gives  many  of  his 
recollections  of  Revolutionary  times,  among  which  one  of  the 
liveliest  is  the  story  of  how  he  became  secretary  of  the  first 
Congress  : 

"  I  was  married  on  a  Thursday,  and  the  following  Monday 
came  to  town  to  pay  my  respects  to  my  wife's  aunt  and  the 
family.  Just  as  I  alighted  in  Chestnut  Street  the  doorkeeper 
of  Congress  accosted  me  with  a  message  from  them,  request- 
ing my  presence.  ...  I  bid  my  servant  put  up  his  horses  and 
followed  the  messenger  myself  to  Carpenters'  Hall,  and  en- 
tered Congress.  ...  I  walked  up  the  aisle,  and,  standing 
opposite  the  President,  bowed  and  told  him  I  awaited  his 
pleasure.  He  replied,  Congress  desires  the  favor  of  you,  sir, 
to  take  their  minutes.  I  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and  took  my 
place  at  the  desk.  After  a  short  silence,  Patrick  Henry  rose 
to  speak." 

Mrs.  Logan  was  extremely  fond  of  history  and  study  bearing 


DEBORAH  LOGAN. 


319 


upon  it.  In  one  of  the  roomy  garrets  of  Stenton  she  found 
a  mass  of  papers  relating  to  the  early  history  of  Pennsylvania. 
"  They  had  been  very  much  neglected,  and  treated  as  useless 
waste-paper,  and  were  piled  away  in  the  garrets  as  worthless 
rubbish,  the  very  room  they  occupied  being  bestowed  reluc- 
tantly. She  was  not,  however,  to  be  discouraged  by  their 
unpromising  appearance  and  mouldy,  worm-eaten,  tattered 
condition,  nor  the  difficulty  of  deciphering  that  which  ap- 
peared at  first  as  unintelligible  as  Egyptian  hieroglyphics. 
She  devoted  many  years  of  her  life  in  collecting,  arranging, 
systematizing,  and  copying  these  papers.  Many  thousand 
pages  of  original  letters  relating  to  the  colonial  history  were 
neatly  copied,  with  remarks  and  annotations."  * 

The  beauty  of  her  manuscript  is  remarkable.  The  hand- 
writing is  rather  small,  without  being  cramped  ;  as  regular  and 
legible  as  the  best  type ;  unlike  a  woman's  writing,  yet  in  no 
wise  masculine;  the  last  word  of  each  page  has  a  line  to  itselC 
and  is  repeated  at  the  top  of  the  following  one ;  there  is  a  wide 
margin  ;  the  paragraphs  are  distinctly  broken  ;  the  numerous 
foot-notes  are  separated  by  heavy  double  lines  from  the  page 
above  ;  where  letters,  quotations,  or  extracts  are  introduced, 
the  difference  is  carefully  designated ;  the  title  or  date,  ad- 
dress, signature,  are  all  clearly  indicated  on  separate  lines. 
It  is  the  performance  of  one  who  thought  emphatically  that 
whatever  is  worth  doing  is  worth  doing  well,  and  who  be- 
stowed her  utmost  pains  on  whatever  she  undertook.  These 
were  afterwards  published  by  the  Historical  Society  of  Penn- 
sylvania under  the  name  of  the  Penn  and  Logan  Correspond- 
ence, with  a  preface  by  Edward  Armstrong,  Esq.,  the  editor ; 
an  account  of  the  Penn  family,  by  John  J.  Smith,  Esq. ;  a 
short  notice  of  Mrs.  Deborah  Logan,  by  Isaac  Norris,  Esq.; 
and  a  memoir  of  James  Logan,  from  her  own  pen.  She  also 
undertook  a  series  of  biographical  sketches  or  reminiscences 
of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  but  un- 
fortunately gave   up  the  idea,   dissatisfied  with  the  faintness 

*  Extract  from  notice  of  Mrs.  Logan  in  the  Penn  and  Logan  Correspondence. 


320 


WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 


of  the  outlines  upon  her  memory  after  the  lapse  of  so  many 
years.  She  amused  herself  by  writing  verses  which  are 
smooth,  flowing,  and  very  prettily  turned,  generally  suggested 
by  the  beauties  of  nature  or  some  sentiment  or  feeling  of  her 
own  inner  life.  She  kept  a  copious  diary,  which  became  by 
degrees  a  companion  and  confidant,  to  which  she  resorted 
often  through  the  day,  and  in  this  she  registered  her  poetical 
effusions.  In  one  place  she  says  that,  although  she  was  fond 
of  the  sonnet,  it  had  always  seemed  to  her  "  like  putting  the 
muse  into  corsets."  However,  "on  one  of  Anna  Seward's 
recipes"  she  very  neatly  executed  a  sonnet  to  Stenton,  with 
apostrophes,  allusions  to  Flora,  Zephyr,  Eurus,  and  all  the 
old-fashioned  figures  and  flowers  of  style.  Several  others  fol- 
low ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  although  Mrs.  Logan's  poetry  was 
as  good  as  a  great  deal  which  was  printed  and  vastly  admired 
in  that  day  (as  indeed  was  some  of  her  own),  it  reads  now  too 
much  as  if  it  had  all  been  written  by  Anna  Seward's  recipe. 
Yet  her  taste  in  poetry,  to  judge  from  her  quotations  and 
remarks,  was  for  what  was  best  of  the  best :  she  delighted  in 
Childe  Harold,  which  she  says  "  has  in  parts  of  it  the  very 
soul  of  poetry :  he  transports  me  to  the  grand  and  impress- 
ive scenes  he  so  beautifully  describes.  .  .  .  He  clears  the 
rubbish  from  the  antique  fountain  and  bids  its  fresh  and  crystal 
rill  again  sparkle  in  the  sunbeams ;  and  oh  !  there  are  many 
passages  that  speak  so  indescribably  to  the  heart  and  feelings 
as  to  awaken  a  deep  and  powerful  sympathy  for  the  being  who 
could  so  gloriously  express  what  you  and  himself  have  felt." 
Milton  was  constantly  in  her  thoughts,  suggested  by  dawn, 
by  sunset ;  and  once  in  her  diary  she  exclaims  that  "  the 
associations  of  poetry  embellish  life." 

Her  industry  was  unchecked  by  advancing  years,  and  she 
became  interested  in  astronomy,  lamenting  that  she  had  not 
the  apparatus  necessary  for  pursuing  the  study  seriously.  She 
alludes  to  this  in  an  entry  for  January  I,  1817,  a  wonderfully 
mild  day,  when  she  has  been  able  to  collect  a  small  nosegay 
in  the  garden, — violets  among  other  flowers.  "  Surely  the 
benevolent  and  all-wise   Creator  has  decorated   our  earthly 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  321 

habitation  with  a  profusion  of  delights  and  beauties,  and 
opened  a  source  of  the  most  delightful  entertainment  to  the 
mind  in  the  discovery  and  contemplation  of  the  laws  by  which 
He  governs  the  universe.  What  may  we  not  expect  of  felicity 
will  be  prepared  for  the  good  in  a  more  advanced  state  of 
being?  This  is  the  first  dawn  of  existence,  and  we  are  to 
progress  in  virtue  and  knowledge  through  eternity." 

This  vein  of  piety  pervaded  her  whole  nature,  rising  from 
its  most  hidden  depths  to  its  sunny  surface.  In  the  memoir 
of  her  husband,  although  she  keeps  herself  in  the  background 
throughout,  unconscious  expressions  of  a  devout  and  fervent 
faith  are  constant ;  in  her  diary  aspiration  is  half  her  life.  She 
says  that  her  books  of  devotion  are  "  the  Bible,  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  No  Cross  No  Crown,  Archbishop  Tillotson,  Fenelon, 
and  the  Apology."  The  time  was  at  hand  when  she  would 
need  all  the  support  and  consolation  which  religion  could 
give,  all  the  resources  of  her  well-disciplined  mind  and  stead- 
fast, submissive  character.  In  April,  1821,  she  lost  her  hus- 
band, her  paragon  of  men.  He  died  after  a  long  illness  which 
had  succeeded  to  a  slowly  lowering  state  of  health.  From 
that  time  her  life  was  chiefly  in  the  past.  Her  kindly  sympa- 
thy for  others,  her  cheerful  unselfishness,  which  kept  her  own 
regrets  and  longings  out  of  sight,  her  happy  habit  of  constant 
occupation,  above  all,  the  total  absence  of  egotism  in  her  com- 
position, led  the  juniors  who  knew  her  in  her  widowhood. to 
hold  her  an  unusually  gay  and  lively  person  for  her  years. 
And  so  serene  and  rational  old  age  is  often  judged  by  a 
younger  generation.  It  is  hard  for  those  who  are  still  in  the 
thick  and  heat  of  life,  with  present  joys,  griefs,  hopes,  fears, 
love,  and  hate  thronging  about  them,  to  believe  that  those  for 
whom  to-day  and  to-morrow  can  bring  but  one  last  change 
should  know  anything  of  the  keen  and  eager  emotions  which 
fill  existence  with  impatience  and  unrest.  Resignation  is 
taken  for  satisfaction,  tranquillity  for  indifference,  silence  for 
oblivion.  Such  an  unselfish  and  serene  old  age  was  Deborah 
Logan's,  but  it  was  so  because  she  had  striven  for  self-control 
and  submission  in  earlier  years,  and  endeavored  so  to  keep 


322      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

the  balance  between  spiritual  and  outward  demands  that  the 
hands  should  mark  the  hour,  the  heart  and  conscience  chime 
in  concert,  up  to  the  very  last.  She  outlived  her  husband 
many  years,  during  which  she  found  some  consolation  in 
writing  his  biography  and  retreading  in  memory  the  long 
path  they  had  traveled  hand  in  hand.  She  never  ceased  to 
mourn  him,  and,  amid  the  calm  routine  which  her  diary 
records,  her  thoughts  turned  to  him  perpetually.  A  few  ex- 
tracts will  illustrate  the  beauty  of  her  character  and  life  better 
than  pages  of  comment  and  eulogy.  Rather  a  curious  cen- 
sorship was  exercised  upon  this  journal  after  it  had  been 
gathering  volume  for  many  years.  Mrs.  Logan  had.  the  prac- 
tice of  noting  down  the  interesting  or  amusing  conversations 
which  took  place  in  the  varied  society  in  which  for  so  many 
years  she  took  part;  but  when  all  the  more  conventional  inter- 
course had  ceased,  and  her  circle  had  slowly  narrowed  to  a 
few  old  friends  of  quiet  antecedents,  one  of  them,  a  strict 
Quakeress,  persuaded  Mrs.  Logan  that  these  reminiscences 
savored  of  worldliness  and  frivolity  and  were  inconsistent 
with  "  our  peaceable  testimony."  Accordingly,  the  two  went 
carefully  over  the  manuscript,  erasing  with  laborious  thor- 
oughness all  mere  chit-chat.  Mrs.  Logan  testifies  to  her 
lively  relish  for  general  conversation  by  a  sly  reference  to 
having  had,  in  company  with  some  friends,  "  a  blameless  cup 
of  tea, — that  is,  without  scandal."  This  revision  destroyed 
what  would  have  been  no  doubt  a  most  delightful  collection 
of  anecdotes  and  ana  of  a  highly  interesting  period  in  Amer- 
ican society,  when  its  centre  was  at  Philadelphia  and  its 
leading  figures  were  historical  personages.  But  we  must  be 
thankful  for  the  pictures  of  political  and  domestic  life  which 
are  left. 

"November  30. — A  dormant  jerboa  was  brought  me  to-day, 
which  one  of  our  men  ploughed  up.  Its  nest  was  pretty  deep, 
and  very  comfortably  and  curiously  made  of  dry  grass  and 
pieces  of  small  stubble.  I  covered  it  and  put  it  into  a  closet 
where  I  have  had  another  one  living  for  some  time,  well  fed, 
and  not  yet  fallen  asleep.     The  dormant  one  is  very  fat.    The 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  323 

next  day  the  little  creature,  having  been  so  disturbed  by  its 
removal,  gradually  awakened,  but  did  not  appear  to  have 
regained  its  usual  activity;  however,  it  afterwards  made  its 
escape  down  to  the  other  one's  habitation  in  the  closet,  where 
they  continue  to  take  the  food  I  provide  for  them." 

"  August  8. — I  had  several  walks  and  rambles  out  of  doors 
to-day,  and  saw  my  poor  little  ground-squirrel  busily  em- 
ployed in  fetching  nuts  from  a  distant  tree  for  his  winter 
store ;  at  which  I  assisted  him  by  leaving  a  heap  at  his  door- 
way: and  it  called  to  my  mind  the  beautiful  little  fellow  that 
my  husband  tamed  so  completely."  On  a  winter  morning 
she  describes  the  little  family  assembled  round  the  stove, — 
Bear,  the  big  dog,  Jerry  Lodge,  the  little  black  cat,  and  a 
young  chicken,  all  demeaning  themselves  with  propriety  and 
harmony ;  adding,  "  To  have  the  animal  world  about  you 
happy  and  inoffensive  to  you  and  each  other  makes  no  in- 
glorious part  of  paradise,  in  my  opinion." 

"  October  6. — It  is  a  cold  north  wind  and  a  silvery-looking 
sun.  I  am  fearful  of  frost.  My  neglected  garden  looks  sadly; 
but  still  it  affords  double  balsam,  nasturtions,  and  Queen 
Margarets  for  Flora's  altar  and  the  parlor-table.  An  old- 
fashioned  glass  pyramid  set  up  in  the  corner  of  the  hall  above 
the  triangular  table,  and  filled  with  glasses  of  flowers  fanci- 
fully disposed,  constitutes  the  altar.  No  one  can  tell  how 
much  innocent  enjoyment  I  have  derived  from  flowers." 

"  October  18. — It  is  now  autumn,  daily  fading  into  '  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf;'  the  sun  is  seen  through  a  haze ;  the  air  is 
so  bland  and  temperate  that  it  might  be  mistaken  for  spring ; 
but  the  days  are  shortening  apace.  The  wasps  are  flying 
against  the  windows  in  pursuit  of  some  sheltered  situation 
for  winter ;  a  few  birds  with  dissonant  notes  instead  of  song, 
among  which  I  discover  the  blue-jay  and  the  robin ;  the 
afternoon  sun  seems  impatient  to  reach  his  goal  in  the  west ; 
and  the  nights  are  long  and  chilly  and  dark.  It  all  answers 
to  myself;  and  to-morrow,  if  I  live  to  see  it,  I  shall  have 
completed  the  sixty-first  year  of  my  age.  Let  me  not  do  it 
without  an  act  of  devotion." 


324      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

"  Thursday  morning,  before  daylight. — I  am  up  thus  early 
to  accompany  my  dear  children  to  see  our  venerable  connec- 
tion and  friend  Charles  Thomson  once  more.  It  is  all  silent 
round  me.  Jupiter,  just  below  the  Seven  Stars,  is  brightly 
shining  overhead ;  the  Dogstar  sparkles  with  prismatic  ray, 
the  morning  moon  is  up,  and  the  attendant  lamp  of  Venus 
hangs  below  her  in  the  east;  the  cocks  all  over  the  neigh- 
borhood are  '  scattering  the  rear  of  darkness  thin.'  " 

"  I  have  done  my  usual  morning  work,  and  had  my  dinner, 
and  yet  it  is  not  much  beyond  the  hour  of  noon, — an  hour 
of  quiet,  generally,  in  the  country :  people  pause  and  rest  a 
little  before  they  again  go  to  their  labor.  There  is  often  a 
stillness  in  nature,  I  imagine,  at  the  hour  of  noon,  and  I  ex- 
perience it  delightfully  now:  nothing  but  the  clack  of  a  distant 
winnowing-fan  interrupts  the  solemn  and  sweet  breathing  of 
Zephyr  on  the  strings  of  my  yEolian  harp.  I  often  want  words 
to  express  my  feelings,  and  I  am  sure  I  do  at  this  time.  The 
thought  of  other  years,  and  the  remembrance  of  dear  and 
loved  friends, — and  one  tender  and  cherished  affection  which 
now  mingles  with  all  my  thoughts  and  visits  me  in  everything 
I  meet. — Several  hours  have  passed :  it  is  a  sweet  and  solemn 
afternoon ;  dark  and  bright  clouds  intermingle  with  patches 
of  bright  blue  sky.  Part  of  the  family  are  gone  out,  and  the 
rest  are  very  quiet.  The  house  is  clean  and  shut  up ;  the 
hall  dressed  with  wild  flowers  and  grasses  and  Catalonian 
jessamine." 

"  June  6. — First  Day  was  spent  pleasantly,  though  partly 
alone.  I  passed  the  afternoon  in  the  library,  which  is  my 
most  agreeable  apartment  in  summer,  where  I  am  quiet  and 
retired  from  noise  and  interruption,  cool,  and  shaded  in  the 
most  delicious  manner  by  the  fine  old  trees  that  surround  our 
venerable  dwelling, — the  glycene  and  ivy  forming  the  most 
beautiful  festoons  and  drapery  around  the  southern  window, 
which  emits  a  softened  light  over  my  writing-table.  Or,  if 
I  choose  to  read,  the  easy  and  low  seat  of  an  old  sofa  brought 
by  my  grandmother  from  England  in  1708,  and  surrounded 
by  books,  most  of  them,  indeed,  in  unison  with  everything, 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  325 

and  savoring  more  of  the  past  than  the  present.  Here  and 
alone  I  like  best  to  be ;  not  but  that  the  society  of  my  friends 
gives  me  real  pleasure,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  useful,  conversation 
eliciting  many  things  from  the  mind  that  I  have  not  found  in 
books,  and  rendering  life  much  more  pleasant  by  binding  us 
to  each  other." 

She  frequently  speaks  of  sitting  round  the  dining-room 
table  in  the  evening  with  the  "  damsels"  or  "  little  maids," 
who  quilted  or  sewed  while  she  read  aloud  to  them,  while 
Poll,  her  parrot,  perched  on  the  handle  of  her  work-basket. 
Sometimes  the  name  of  some  famous  stranger  fell  into  the 
quiet  round  of  her  daily  existence  and  broke  its  surface  with 
memories  and  regrets.  When  La  Fayette  paid  his  last  visit 
to  this  country,  a  sorrowful  unwillingness  that  he  should  pass 
by  without  a  greeting  from  Stenton  stirred  Mrs.  Logan  to 
write  him  a  letter,  a  sort  of  tribute  to  represent  the  welcome 
he  would  have  had  from  her  husband  had  he  been  upon  earth. 
At  another  time  she  writes,  "  The  Governor  of  New  York, 
De  Witt  Clinton,  who  is  at  present  on  a  visit  to  this  State, 
is  to  breakfast  to-morrow  at  Reuben  Haines';  and  there  has 
been  a  time  in  which  I  too  should  have  seen  him.  It  seems 
as  if  it  were  hardly  right  for  strangers  of  distinction  to  be 
unnoticed  at  this  house ;  but  there  is  nothing  now  to  attract 
their  notice,  unless  it  is  the  grave  of  one  of  the  best  of  men 
and  most  patriotic  of  citizens."  In  her  habitual  modesty  and 
low  estimate  of  herself,  it  never  occurs  to  her  how  glad  these 
fine  birds  of  passage  might  have  been  to  see  and  speak  with 
her  if  she  had  only  given  them  the  opportunity.  She  thought 
that  whatever  interest  or  consequence  had  ever  been  hers 
came  from  her  husband  and  expired  with  him.  The  affec- 
tionate reverence  of  a  whole  neighborhood  gave  her  no  higher 
idea  of  herself. 

"April  1. — I  have  been  employed  to-day  in  getting  some 
improvements  made  in  the  inclosure  where  the  remains  of 
my  dearest  love  are  deposited.  There  is  something  very 
touching  in  this  resting-place,  the  source  of  his  pleasures  in 
childhood.     A  pewit  continues  to  build  her  nest  in  the  case 


326      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

below  attached  to  one  of  the  large  hooks  drove  into  the 
roof  of  the  vault,  the  old  hereditary  place,  if  not  nest,  for  I 
have  heard  him  say  one  had  always  built  there  when  he  was  a 
boy.  I  long  to  have  the  place  completed,  and  perceive  it  will 
be  a  most  acceptable  place  of  musing  to  me,  and  where  I  hope 
to  lay  beside  him,  the  beloved  friend  and  companion  of  my 
life,  whose  removal  has  made  life  more  like  a  desert  than 
the  cheerful,  pleasant  existence  which  it  used  to  be." 

"  As  to  suitable  reflections,  I  trust  I  am  somewhat  the  better 
of  those  I  have  made ;  but  of  good  resolutions  which  I  have 
not  kept  I  am  ashamed,  and,  humble  and  doubtful  of  myself, 
can  do  no  more  but  hope  that  I  shall  endeavor,  though  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  to  labor  more  earnestly.  Life  recedes — eternity 
advances." 

"December  29,  1832. — The  season  and  my  own  age  have 
suggested  the  following : 

"  Oh,  say  not  Time,  with  sweeping  wing, 

Damps  the  best  feelings  of  the  mind, 
Say  not  his  scythe,  that  sweeping  thing, 

Can  level  thought,  or  fancy  bind. 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  Decay 
Usurp  the  place  where  Reason  lay. 

"  Methinks  it  might  the  wizard  please 

To  stamp  his  ruin  on  the  face, 
To  mark  his  grasp  the  victim  seize, 

And  the  fine  form  bow  in  disgrace. 
Were  this  his  aim,  he'd  welcome  be, 
So  he  would  leave  my  mind  to  me, — 

"  Leave  me  the  dreams  of  other  years, 

Leave  me  the  free  expansive  thought, 
The  courage  which  supports  from  fears, 

The  kindness  kindred  feelings  wrought : 
Then  could  I  bear  Time's  spoils  to  see, 
So  he  would  leave  my  mind  to  me." 

This  fervent  prayer  was  fully  answered.  The  years  passed^ 
and  life  ebbed  gently  away,  taking  only  the  physical  powers 
with  it, — although  one  deep  grief  came  between  her  and  the 
~°tting  sun.     In   1835  she  lost  her  youngest  son,  Algernon 


DEBORAH  LOGAN.  327 

Sydney,  in  the  prime  of  manhood;  but  her  gaze  had  long  been 
fixed  on  the  goal,  and  while  she  sorrowed  she  knew  it  could  not 
be  for  long.  Younger  and  still  younger  generations  grew  up  in 
affectionate  respect  of  the  old  lady  who  had  heard  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence  read,  and  who  still,  far  on  in  another 
century,  sat  at  her  tea-table  under  the  hemlocks,  all  dignity 
and  benevolence,  in  her  cap  and  short-gown,  not  more  alive 
to  the  recollections  of  that  by-gone  time  than  to  the  charities 
and  courtesies  of  the  present.  John  Watson,  Esq.,  author  of 
the  Annals  of  Germantown,  while  compiling  his  work,  used 
daily  to  stroll  down  to  Stenton,  to  draw  reminiscences  and 
verifications  from  that  untroubled  well  of  memory.  In  the 
spring  of  1838  there  is  a  charming  description  in  her  diary 
of  a  visit  from  a  neighbor's  baby,  a  little  thing  not  a  year  old 
who  woke  every  maternal  chord  in  that  gentle  breast,  and 
lighted  up  the  day  with  a  gleam  of  pleasure  which  marked  it 
with  a  white  stone.  Late  in  October  of  the  same  year  she  gives 
a  long  account  of  a  visit  from  an  ardent  young  Englishwoman 
who  lived  in  her  neighborhood,  and  who  discoursed  to  her 
first  about  the  condition  of  Ireland,  "and  then,  by  a  natural 
transition,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  adverted  to  the  condition  of 
the  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  and  in  this  country,  and 
said  things  which  might  have  commanded  audience  in  the 
senate  of  her  own  country,  and — shall  I  add  ? — might  have 
abashed  mine."  The  topic  leads  Mrs.  Logan  back  to  recall 
and  compare  the  views  of  the  anti-slavery  leaders  of  her 
youth  and  speculate  on  the  results  of  the  policy  of  expe- 
diency pursued  by  our  government  on  this  question.  Her 
mind  is  as  clear,  her  interest  as  deep,  as  when  she  used  to 
listen  to  Jefferson  and  Madison  and  hold  her  peace  while  she 
kept  her  own  opinion. 

Three  months  later  the  spirit  fled  from  its  enfeebled  case 
back  to  the  Hand  which  sent  it  forth,  as  undimmed  and  spot- 
less as  in  the  hour  when  it  came  upon  earth.  Sorrow  and 
love  and  reverence  followed  her  to  her  resting-place  in  the 
beautiful  little  burying-ground  at  Stenton,  where  she  lies 
beside  her  adored  husband,  among  the  children  who  went 


328      WORTHY  WOMEN  OF  OUR  FIRST  CENTURY. 

before  and  followed  her.  But  one  survived, — Albanus,  the 
eldest,  who  married  his  kinswoman  Miss  Dickinson,  and  left 
four  children:  Elizabeth,  first  wife  of  Dr.  Thomas  Forrest 
Betton,  and  Gustavus,  who  are  dead,  Miss  Mary  Norris 
Logan,  and  Dr.  Jonathan  Dickinson  Logan. 

By  her  unambitious  industry  she  has  erected  a  monument 
to  herself  in  her  valuable  contributions  to  the  history  of  the 
State,  the  MSS.  of  which  belong  to  the  Philadelphia  Library 
and  are  in  the  archives  of  the  Pennsylvania  Philosophical  So- 
ciety. Her  memory  lives  on  as  a  tradition  of  charm  and 
worth,  a  lovely  impersonation  of  female  excellence,  a  lady  of 
the  old  school,  a  pure,  ideal  Quakeress. 

Sarah   Butler  Wister. 


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